A Series of Unfortunate Events
by Geeky-DMHG-Fan
Summary: Set after DH and will completely ignore the Epilogue. Hermione keeps running into Draco Malfoy. Will anything other than disaster come from these chance encounters?
1. Bad Beginning

A/N: I own nothing.

This is my first stab at a DMHG fanfiction. Hope I didn't fail utterly.

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Unfortunate Event One:

**The Bad Beginning**

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"As the graph indicates, the population of the Indian Ocean's ramora fish has declined sharply over the past ten years. Using our repopulation methods for the shrake as a model, we expect to increase the number of remora by sixty percent over the next decade. Now this next chart shows..."

Tick. Tock. Tick.

Hermione had never considered herself a very musical person, but the incessant noise of the cuckoo clock was inspiring. The rhythm of time's passage quickly retrieved her dominating thought, adapting it to its simple beat.

You're. Late. You're. Late.

And. Bored.

If one was to believe the tiny chirps of the golden snidget that had popped out a few minutes ago from the clock, it was after seven o'clock. But knowing it was after seven and actually having the precise time were two different things. Given Hermione's exacting and obsessive nature, her current state was less than satisfactory. Unfortunately, she could not see the time. The clock was on the wall behind her.

But telling time was the least of her problems. Ever since she had joined the Ministry a few weeks back, her life had been nothing but stress, anxiety, and deadlines. And as of seven o'clock, time had run out on one of her most important assignments.

It was Hermione's turn to watch Teddy Tonks for the weekend, while his grandmother (and sole care-giver) Andromeda was out of town. The holiday coincided with the third anniversary of her husband's death and had been planned months in advance. Hermione had not counted on the mandatory meeting on the mating habits of magical salt-water fish, which had been announced last week. Nor had Hermione anticipated that Andromeda would be unable to find a baby-sitter to cover for that first night.

Because Andromeda had not found another sitter, the older woman was waiting for her to arrive. Given the circumstances surrounding this particular holiday, Hermione felt more guilty with each passing second. As she felt the time slipping away, Hermione sank lower and lower in her seat.

Try as she might, Hermione could not stay focused on the presentation. The boring subject matter partnered with the unusually large pimple growing between the eyebrows of the presenter made this usually easy task seem like a Herculean labor. And she was no Hercules.

Dropping her chin into her hand, she nearly groaned at the bump she felt forming on her skin. Really?! She was almost twenty years old. Youngest person in her department. Defender of the Wizarding Realm. Brightest Witch of the Modern Age. Surely that earned her a reprieve from pimples.

She traced her fingers over her skin once more, hoping she was only imagining the painful bump. Nope. She was definitely not Hercules. Demigods never had pimples.

"Any questions?"

Hermione glanced around the table, silently daring anyone to prolong the meeting. When no one raised their hands, she gathered her papers as quickly as possible and bolted from the room. The meeting had been on the seventh floor; her office was on the fourth. And the elevator was broken.

Navigating the nearly empty hallways and stairwells of the Ministry of Magic, she burst into her office, legs slightly burning and lungs gasping for air.

Opening her briefcase, she threw in her stack of papers and slammed the lid shut. She took off from her office, once again running, though this time to the nearest apparition point. Unfortunately this was located outside the building on the ground floor. And the elevators were still broken. Just as Hermione reached her goal, it occurred to her that she could have just flooed to Andromeda's. Too late now.

Finally at a place where she could apparate, she focused on the location just outside the gate to Andromeda's home.

Less than a second later, she was _there_.

_There_: where it was raining cats and dogs and she had no umbrella. _There_: where puddles were ankle-deep and muddy and covering her new pair of shoes. _There_: where she would not be able to change into her comfy, warm pajamas because she had left them in her office, along with everything else she had packed in her overnight bag.

Slamming the gate behind her with a less than satisfying 'bang,' Hermione rushed up the path, ignoring the loud squish of her toes in her shoes. After three minutes of pounding on the front door and continuing to get soaked, she finally gave up, setting her briefcase down. Ignoring the slight twinge in her gut, she pulled out her wand and muttered a quiet Alohomora. Much to her surprise, the door opened without a sound.

It shouldn't have been that easy. Not with all the wards Andromeda had in place.

This was not good.

Pushing the door open, Hermione walked into the front entrance. The entire house was cloaked in darkness, and she raised her wand, ready to strike should some burglar jump from the shadows. She was just about to step into the living room when a small creak arrested her movement.

Before she could turn around, the damage had been done.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Frozen by both the spell and fear, Hermione could only stand there, awaiting the next move from her attacker.

"Well, well, well. Look what the indiscriminate kneazle dragged in."

_Malfoy._

Whatever terror she had felt quickly morphed into anger.

The smug look on this face, not to mention his dry clothes, made her wish she could reach out and smack him. But she was powerless to do anything, couldn't even react as he used his wand to lift one of her limp, sodden curls into the air for inspection. As he looked down his nose at her, she thought how unjust it was that a complete jerk like Malfoy had such clear skin. _He_ had probably never had a pimple in his life.

He took a step back, folding his arms across his chest as he looked her over. The familiar smirk curled at his lips, and she wondered what she had done to set it off. And then she stopped caring, because it was then that she realized she was wearing a white shirt, which, thanks to the rain, was completely soaked through.

Merciful Merlin, could this day possibly get any worse?

"And to think Pansy actually said you had gotten pretty."

Hermione's hands ached to connect with his face. Or throat. At this point, she wasn't too particular.

He was just about to take another step towards her when a small cry came from the second level of the house.

"Finite," Malfoy breathed, and then he was stalking up the staircase, Hermione hot on his heels.

He stopped abruptly over Teddy's crib, and Hermione accidentally ran into him. Knocked off balance, his hands gripped the side of the crib, jolting the bed. If Teddy's wails were any indication, the child did not approve.

"Watch it, Granger," Malfoy hissed.

Hermione ignored him, peering down at her favorite toddler.

The boy was not even two years old and already he looked so much like his mother. With his dark eyes, dark hair, and a heart-shaped face, he was the spitting image of Tonks. He was even a metamorphmagus, just like her. Hermione couldn't help but smile, temporarily forgetting the unpleasantness hovering over her left shoulder.

The instant Teddy saw his visitors, he stopped crying. Standing up on chubby legs, he reached for Malfoy, all the while babbling and laughing.

Disbelieving what she was seeing, Hermione nudged Malfoy out of the way and scooped the child into her arms.

"How are you, my little Teddy Bear?" she cooed, trying to get him to stop wriggling and whining. But he was persistent. The boy kept reaching for Malfoy.

"You have got to be joking," she murmured under her breath.

"Give him here, Granger, before you make him cry again," Malfoy ordered. Without waiting for an answer, he took the young Lupin from Hermione. And just like that, the little storm cloud was all rainbows and sunshine.

Had Hermione entered some kind of alternate universe? Where the good were punished with soaking clothes and meetings on fish mating while arrogant gits like Draco Malfoy were adored by small children and had skin that looked as soft and smooth as cream?

Where was the justice?

Hermione felt a headache coming on. Or perhaps it was a cold. With her luck, she was well on her way to contracting pneumonia.

Hand clutched tightly around her wand, Hermione just barely managed to say, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco frowned, obviously not liking the way Teddy was playing with his hair.

"I should ask the same of you. Last I checked, breaking and entering was still a crime."

"I'm here to baby-sit Teddy."

"Oh, didn't my aunt tell you? I'm your replacement."

Huh. That was unlike Andromeda. Normally, she kept Hermione up to date on any change of plans.

"She never told me that," Hermione said.

"Hmm. That's right. I was supposed to tell you. Sorry about that. You know how busy life can be. It must have just slipped my mind."

Hermione released a very undignified snort, inwardly smiling at the disgusted look it drew from the pale man before her. "Busy? Doing what exactly? Collecting interest on your family fortune? Waiting on your house elves to cater to your every whim?"

"Do I detect some sour grapes?"

"Hardly. I would never trade places with you, not for all the galleons in the world."

"I highly doubt that. Then again, I can't pretend to know what goes through that twisted head of yours."

"Twisted?! That's rich. If anyon—"

Hermione stopped. This was pointless. She was almost twenty years old. She was better than this; certainly better than Draco Malfoy.

He leaned in, his left eyebrow arching condescendingly. "Yes?"

Rather than fight Malfoy, she would just ignore him. From the comfort of her warm and very dry home. "Never mind. Teddy doesn't need two baby-sitters. I'll jus--"

"My thoughts exactly." Without warning, Malfoy pushed Teddy into her arms, causing her to drop her wand. Then he walked out the bedroom. Hermione followed him dumbly, only speaking when he stood directly in front of the fireplace. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Going home." He made a show of glancing at his watch, pushing the sleeve of his blazer up so he and anybody else who was looking could see how expensive the time piece was. Or how well-sculpted the muscles in his lower arm were. He really was an egomaniac. "I think by now the house elves have prepared a suitable dinner. I'd certainly hate to be in their shoes if it's not ready. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Don't be ridiculous. You aren't leaving."

After Malfoy had gathered some floo powder, he turned to face Hermione. "When have you ever known me to be ridiculous?'

"You said you would baby-sit Teddy tonight."

"And I did. For the forty-five minutes you were gone. I've more than lived up to my end of the bargain."

"Not by a long shot."

Malfoy tilted his head, brushing back the hair that fell in his eyes from the action. "If I didn't know better, I would think you didn't want to be here…Hot date tonight?"

"I don't have a date. It's j--"

"Of course you don't. What was I thinking?"

She would not roll her eyes.

Perhaps another tactic was called for. One that involved appealing to his massive ego. "Teddy seems to like you."

"Don't sound so surprised. If I had to choose between being held by me or you, I would choose me too."

Strike One.

Maybe an appeal to family?

"Don't you want to get to know your cousin?"

"What makes you think I don't already know him?"

"Please. I visit Andromeda at least three times a month, and I've never seen you."

"Did you honestly expect me to willingly show up when you were here? Who's being ridiculous now?"

Strike Two.

Begging?

"Look, Malfoy, I've had a very bad day. I'm cold, tired, and hungry, and I would appreciate it if you would be a human being for once and watch Teddy tonight. Like you promised Andromeda you would."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Can't help you. You're on your own."

"Malfoy…please."

"Sorry, Granger. I already have plans."

Strike Three.

Since she was already out, Hermione decided she was done with playing nice.

"How could you possibly have plans? You told Andromeda you would babysit."

"Why do you think I didn't tell you I was coming?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and much to her disbelief and annoyance, her eyes were starting to water. Of all the arrogant, presumptuous, foul--

"Chin up, Granger." Then he placed his finger under her jaw and gently closed her open mouth. Hermione was too stunned to move.

"Maybe if you're lucky, I'll stop by tomorrow," he said.

She jerked her head back, unwilling to let the slimy low-life come in contact with her. "Get your bloody hands off me."

"Language, Hermione. I don't want you corrupting my cousin. Speaking of which, you might want to perform a drying spell. I can see through your top."

Then he tossed in the floo powder, stated 'Malfoy Manor,' and disappeared.

Almost twenty years old or not, Hermione stamped her foot. "Stupid Malfoy!"

Teddy, who ever since Malfoy had held him was behaving like an angel, just smiled at her, as if she were playing some game for his amusement.

"It's not funny, Teddy Bear. Your cousin is a bad man, a very bad man."

But Teddy just giggled all the more. And if that weren't horrific enough, the baby's dark brown hair morphed to an alarming shade of pale Malfoy yellow.

Looking down at the blond child, Hermione let out a sigh.

"Sweet Merlin, kill me now."

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**A/N:** Any and all reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading.


	2. Reptile Room

A/N: I own nothing.

I have no idea why I chose to use Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events book titles for the names of my chapters. I've never even read those books. I might stop using them if the titles no longer work.

I created some character as you will see later on. He is of no importance to the story. I just couldn't find a real character who fit my description.

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**Unfortunate Event Two:**

**Reptile Room**

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_The next day:_

With a groan, Hermione turned over for what was quite possibly the fiftieth time since she had lain down to sleep on the couch in Andromeda's living room.

"Stupid couch," she mumbled into her pillow, grimacing slightly at the wetness that met her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she lifted the backside of her mouth to wipe away the drool.

"Morning, Granger."

Hermione's eyes shot open, and she bolted straight up on the couch. After she had rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she narrowed them at the most unwelcome visitor.

"I take it you slept well." He held out a cup of coffee. As if that would make up for scaring her out of her wits last night and this morning.

"I always pictured you as an early bird. Guess I was wrong." Malfoy's smile was as bright as the morning sun and equally obnoxious to Hermione, who had suffered through a night of lumpy couch and cranky Teddy. Hermione snatched the cup of coffee and stood up, determined to get as far away from him as possible.

When the blanket fell away and her legs suddenly felt cold, Hermione remembered she had taken off her work pants before she had gone to bed. And as she was behind in doing her laundry, she was wearing one of her last clean pairs of underwear. It had been part of a set, a gag gift from Ginny, decorated with a certain sports theme.

Hermione screamed, hand tensing around her cup of coffee. "Malfoy, turn around!"

A gentleman would have listened. Draco Malfoy brought his long fingers up to his chin, deep in contemplation. "I thought you hated Quidditch."

"Stop looking at me!"

Throwing up his hands in surrender, Malfoy spun around. "You act as if I've never seen a golden snitch before."

"Certainly not while you played against Harry," she grumbled.

He looked over his shoulder, stupid smirk firmly set on his mouth "What was that?"

"Malfoy, so help me, if you turn around one more time, I will hex you to Antarctica. Now stop looking."

Once she was certain there were no reflective surfaces around, or any other possible way for Malfoy to see her, Hermione scooted toward the couch. Grabbing the nearest throw, she wrapped it around her waist like a towel.

Then she turned on him, poking him in the chest with her finger. "I haven't seen you in over a year, and now you show up to ruin my day not once, but twice. You better have a good reason for being here."

Draco pushed her hand to the side. "I told you I would be stopping by tomorrow. Someone has to make sure you didn't kill or maim my cousin."

"Your cousin?" she said incredulously. "Two years ago you wouldn't have even claimed you shared the same blood with him."

"What can I say? I'm a changed man."

Everyone deserved a second chance, but that didn't mean Hermione had to believe he had taken it. "Sure, Malfoy, and I'm a crumpled-horn snorkack."

He shrugged. "Well, whatever you are, may I suggest you get dressed?"

"No, you may not. As I was trying to tell you last night before you abandoned me, I left my bag at work. I don't have a spare change of clothes. Thanks to you."

Seemingly unimpressed by her angry words, Malfoy sat down on the couch. "Fine. I'll wait here while you get your bag."

Weighing the pros and cons, Hermione decided to take him up on his offer. Snatching her pants from the floor, she went to the bathroom, put them on, then flooed to her office.

The bag was waiting where she had left it yesterday, right behind her desk. Picking it up, she walked back to the floo entrance, stopping when she passed a mirror.

She looked terrible. Her makeup had smudged, leaving dark circles under her eyes, which were red and puffy from lack of sleep. Her hair looked like her finger had been stuck in a socket. Fortunately, it was only Malfoy waiting back at the house. She couldn't care less what he thought.

Down on her hands and knees, she maneuvered the bag into the fire place and started emerging back in Andromeda's house. Popping her head into the living room, she noticed Draco was not alone. Teddy was there, bouncing up and down on Pansy Parkinson's knee, while Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle watched in amusement, sipping their tea.

A room full of Slytherins. Perfect.

Hermione moved back, trying to listen to their conversation without being noticed.

"I'm surprised neither of you are screaming your heads off," Blaise said. "I thought you always disliked children, and they you."

"You obviously thought wrong. Lance thinks I'd make a wonderful mother," Pansy said.

"Lance? That forty-year old guy you've been dating for the past week?" Malfoy said.

"Very funny, Draco. He's twenty-nine, and it's been almost two months," she said.

Pansy was dating Lancelot Kiely down in the Department of Magical Games and Sports?! That explained why Hermione had been seeing her around the Ministry.

Pansy turned her dark, nearly black eyes toward Malfoy. "Speaking of disliking children, why are you even here, Draco?"

"Mother's determined to be respectable again, and what better way than getting to know Andromeda and Teddy? And since she's doing it, I have to as well."

The outrage Hermione felt on behalf of Andromeda and Teddy seemed only to be felt by she and she alone. Apparently the other people in the room were cold-blooded mercenaries.

"So are we going to stay here all day?" Pansy asked, somewhat irritably.

"No, I'm just waiting for the babysitter to return." Malfoy answered.

Goyle leaned forward, nearly spilling his tea. "She cute?"

"It's Granger," Malfoy said, voice flat.

"And?" Goyle said.

Before Malfoy could answer, Pansy said, "I told you she got pretty. Can you believe it?"

Blaise and Gregory both shrugged their shoulders. "She was never that bad looking to begin with," Blaise said.

"Yeah, I only pretended she was disgusting, because Malfoy seemed to hate her so much." Goyle said.

"You must be joking. Her hair and teeth used to be hideous. Right, Draco?" Pansy asked.

Malfoy was in the middle of sipping his tea, so he couldn't answer. He did, however, scowl at Blaise and Goyle's laughter.

"Malfoy's been in love with her for as long as I can remember," Blaise said.

Hermione glanced over at the pale Slytherin who looked like he had just swallowed a vomit-flavored Bertie Bott bean instead of his tea.

"Don't deny it. You've always had an unhealthy fixation on her. And after she punched you in the face, I started counting down the days before you two got married. So far it's been 2,184 days, give or take a few."

"Seriously, Blaise. Draco marry Granger? I know we're living in," she held up her hands in air quotes, "new and enlightened times," then dropped them, "but Draco's parents would never allow him to marry one of her kind."

"I'm sure his parents wouldn't mind him marrying her if it meant a return of their former prestige. Imagine the good press they'd receive if Draco Malfoy, pureblood prince, started dating Hermione Granger, the magnificent muggleborn. The people would go insane."

Hermione had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. As if _she _would date Draco Malfoy, pureblood ponce. She'd rather be locked in a closet with Cormac McLaggen.

"Besides, Pansy, have you ever met two people who considered everyone else so far below them?" Blaise said. "It's a match made in wizarding heaven."

"I suppose," Pansy conceded. "At least now she's suitable looking enough to take out in public," Pansy said. "Though she's still a bit scrawny. You'll need to fatten her up, Draco."

"And what do you think of their assessment of our future relationship, dearest Hermione?"

Malfoy's head swung in her direction, eyebrows arched in mock interest.

That snake. He'd known she'd been there the whole time.

Hermione crawled out of the fireplace with all the dignity she could muster; it wasn't much. She was in a wrinkled pantsuit with her hair and makeup ruined. They, on the other hand, were all dressed impeccably in the latest fashion, though try as he might, Goyle still looked like a caveman.

"What happened?!" Pansy said, clearly shocked. Leaning towards Malfoy she explained, "When I saw her she looked much better, I swear."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked passed the lot of them, ignoring the laughs she had elicited from the pack of Slytherins.

Locking herself in the bathroom, she yanked the faucet on, stripped off her clothes, and hopped into the shower. Knowing Malfoy and his gang were waiting on her, she took an extra long time with shampooing and conditioning her hair. By the time she had dressed, fixed her hair, and applied some make-up, an hour had passed. Then she waited fifteen minutes more.

When she came back in the room, the group was passing Teddy around, laughing as the boy morphed to look like the person holding him. By now, Teddy was once again being held by Malfoy (at arm's length, Hermione noted with a frown), hair blond as ever.

"Stop that!" Hermione scolded, placing her hands on the boy. "He isn't some parlor trick made for your amusement."

Malfoy didn't let go. "Relax, Granger. As you can see, he's perfectly fine. And happy."

Hermione glanced down at Teddy. It was true. The boy was giggling and smiling. But it was Malfoy; she couldn't let this (or Teddy) go. The two mortal enemies stood there, all four of their hands wrapped around the laughing baby.

"Oh, look," Pansy squealed. "Do you think that's what their children will look like? He's adorable!"

Hermione glanced down at the boy, ready to contradict Pansy. Teddy's hair was still light blond, but it was now curly. And his eyes were a light brown, almost gold. Her eyes. Even though the idea of having a child with Malfoy was repulsive, Pansy was right. Teddy looked adorable.

Apparently Malfoy was as offended at the idea of producing heirs with her as she was. Letting go of Teddy, he said, "He looks nothing like any child I would ever have. His eyes are the wrong color. Mine are gray, not…"

Hermione grit her teeth, waiting for the inevitable "hidden" slight against her blood status. She could see the word 'mud' forming on his lips, but Malfoy seemed to think better of it. Instead, he choked out the word 'honey.'

"Honey?!" Blaise laughed. "How…sweet."

Before either Hermione or Draco could protest, Goyle growled, "Let's go. We've already missed breakfast, and pretty soon we'll miss lunch too. If I don't eat now, Malfoy won't live long enough to make kids with Granger."

Then he stomped over to the fireplace, muttered the name of what Hermione assumed was the restaurant they would be lunching at, and was gone.

Blaise turned to Hermione. "Subtle, is he not?" He stuck out his hand, which Hermione stared at suspiciously until he moved it back to his side. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Granger. Don't be a...stranger."

She rolled her eyes at Zabini's weak attempt at humor and almost cursed when she saw Malfoy doing the same.

After Zabini left, Pansy was next. "Really, Granger, your new hairstyle is a vast improvement. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

Luckily for Parkinson, Hermione was holding Teddy.

Now Draco was the only one left. Hermione turned around, ready to leave the room.

Before she could take a step away, he said, "You should join us."

"Of course. I'll just leave Teddy right here." Merlin, he was an idiot.

"Maybe next time," he said, though it was clear he didn't mean it.

"Yeah…right."

"And Granger, you might want to check his diaper. I noticed an odd smell, but I wasn't sure if it was coming from him or Goyle."

Hermione faked a cheerful smile and voice. ""How kind of you to leave me to clean up the mess. Considerate, as always!"

Malfoy stared down at his suit, brushing off some imaginary lint. "It was nothing, really." Then he looked up at her. "Pansy was actually right. With your hair like that, you almost look decent."

"Thanks, Malfoy. Coming from you that means…absolutely nothing."

He looked just about to leave, but a strange glint appeared in his eye. He walked over, and, to her complete and utter shock, took her free hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "It's been a pleasure, dearest Hermione." Then he disappeared.

"Don't call me that!" she yelled into the empty fireplace, before plopping down tiredly on the couch.

As soon as she had sat down, Teddy crawled from the seat and toddled over to the fireplace, looking to see where his favorite playmate had disappeared to.

Looking down at the blond haired, brown eyed, smiling child, Hermione shook her head. "No, Teddy Bear. I refuse to let you like him. He's a real snake."

"Snake!" the boy shouted, happily.

"Try this word, Teddy. Lion. Ly. Un."

"Snake, snake, snake!"

Hermione sank into the most uncomfortable couch in the world. "Why do I even try?"

"SNAKE!"

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**A/N: Please review. :D**


	3. The Wide Window

A/N: I own nothing.

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**Unfortunate Event Three:**

**The Wide Window**

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"I can't believe this." Ron Weasley said, letting out a low whistle as he stared in awe through the glass panel of the large corporate box. "You get to go to Quidditch matches as part of your job, and you don't even appreciate it."

"Hence why I brought you and Harry," Hermione answered, unimpressed by the sight of the Falmouth Falcons and Puddlemere United warming up on the pitch. "And it's not that I don't like Quidditch. I'm just not in love with it like the two of you."

"Admit it, you're scared of some person falling off their broom, landing on your head, and making you stupid," Ron said.

"Well, at least there is glass separating you from the field," Harry said, tapping his knuckle against the wide window. "You don't need to worry about some stray bludger or player hitting you."

"I still don't understand what the big deal is. It's not like this is the World Cup," Hermione said.

Ron shook his head, voice full of disbelief. "Falmouth and Puddlemere have won five of the last eight league titles between them, and they are the only undefeated teams left this season. The outcome of this game could determine who wins it this year." Ron sighed, clearly disappointed in Hermione's lack of interest. "I don't think you realize just how difficult it is to get tickets for this match. George has been trying for months."

"Aren't you a Cannons fan? Maybe I should have invited George instead." Hermione turned to her red-headed friend, smiling as he spluttered in outrage.

"Of course not! I won these fair and square."

"I _gave_ those to you," Hermione said.

"As you should have. I've been your friend for ages, and what has George done for you? Besides, you owe me for choosing not to date me."

"Smooth, Ron. Real smooth." Harry interjected, resting his forehead in his right hand in feigned embarrassment.

"Aw, she knows I'm kidding."

Fortunately, he was. Ron bore no ill will for Hermione's decision not to pursue anything further than the one kiss they had shared during the final battle at Hogwarts. Things had been awkward between the two for a few months but quickly returned to normal once Ron started dating his on-again, off-again, currently on-again girlfriend, Lavender Brown.

An attendant approached the group, asking if they wanted anything to drink.

Harry and Hermione both asked for butterbeer; Ron ordered a firewhisky.

As soon as the attendant walked away, Hermione rounded on him. "You better not embarrass me by getting drunk."

"Yes, mother."

"Ron, I'm serious. I have to work with these people."

"I'm just curious, but what exactly does a Quidditch match have to do with magical creatures?" Harry asked.

"It's one of those silly networking things. Supposedly some business bigwigs are here, and my boss wants me to get to know them. They could be potential donors," Hermione said.

"Interesting," Ron and Harry said in unison, clearly not meaning it. She couldn't blame them. This was probably the worst part of her job, and she thought it wholly unnecessary.

The attendant returned with the drinks, passed them out, and left.

Having not seen the boys for a while, Hermione was intent on catching up in what little time she had before the game. She knew once it started, they would be lost. "So, Ron, how are things with you and Lavender?"

"Good, I guess."

"You guess?" Harry said, "Don't tell me you're thinking of breaking up with her again."

Ron just shrugged. "Haven't decided yet, but Lavender understands I'm too young to be tied down. A guy like me needs a long leash."

"So, basically, you're saying you're a dog?" Hermione said, grinning all the more at the way Harry tried to hide his laugh behind a cough.

"Exactly. Wait. What? No!" Ron scowled. "This is why things would never have worked out between us. At least Lavender gets me."

"I'm just teasing, Ron. You and Lavender are perfect for one another, and if you break up with her again, I will kill you myself."

"Enough of my love life." Ron grumbled before brightening, "Let's talk about Harry's."

"Uh…" Harry said.

"You've been dating Ginny for almost two years. Any plans to marry her?" Hermione said.

"You don't need to answer that, mate," Ron said.

Harry cleared this throat, taking another swig of butterbeer. "We're taking things slowly. I mean, I'm only in my second year as an auror, and she just got on the Harpies team. We'll see how the relationship works long distance and go from there. I guess."

She was just about to ask another question when Ron said, "Geez, Hermione, what's with the inquisition?"

"I'm just curious is all."

"And what about you? Any plans to get your first boyfriend?" Ron said, a little bit too loudly.

"Ron," Hermione hissed, eyes opened wide in alarm. "Lower your voice."

"What? Nobody's even listening."

Hermione gave a quick scan of the room, which was beginning to fill up as the start of the game approached. Thankfully, it seemed he was right.

"No, I _don't_ have any plans to start dating any time soon. I don't like anyone, and even if I did and he were to reciprocate my feelings, I don't have the time to invest to actually make a relationship work."

Ron screwed his face into a look of mild disgust. "You make it sound like it's homework or something."

"Good thing she's always liked homework," Harry said, no doubt trying to quell a potential argument.

Ignoring Harry, Hermione said, "Not homework, Ron. Hard work. If I can't do it right, I don't want to do it at all. So until I'm at a place in my life where I can actually contribute in some meaningful way to a relationship, I prefer to stay single."

"That's a relief," Harry said, eyes alight with mischief. "Rumor around the Ministry is that you and Malfoy will soon be an item."

Ron burst into laughter, while Hermione spit out the sip of butterbeer she had been about to swallow. "What?! Where did you hear that?!" she demanded.

"Who cares? It's not like it's true," Harry said.

"_I care_. I want to know," she said.

"Come on, Hermione. No one who knew you would actually believe it."

"Harry James Potter, tell me now."

"I don't know, some guy in the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Hermione gasped. "Pansy!"

"Huh?" Ron said, asking for clarification.

"Pansy is dating Lancelot Kiely."

"So?"

"Lancelot works in that department. She must have told him that, and he told it to someone else, and so on."

"By why would she think something was going on between you two?" Harry said.

"She's clearly delusional," Hermione said.

"You haven't even seen Malfoy in a year," Ron said.

"Actually, I ran into the both of them two weeks ago at Andromeda's house when I was babysitting Teddy. Blaise and Goyle also showed up."

"What were they doing there?"

"Long story. Basically, I was babysitting Teddy for the weekend, even though Andromeda had scheduled Malfoy to cover for me the first night. There was a mix-up—Malfoy's fault of course—and he left when I arrived. The next day, he showed up and brought the rest of his gang with him before they all took off and went to lunch."

"So Malfoy is still hanging out with the same people from Hogwarts?" Harry said.

"I can't imagine him making many new friends. The Malfoys are pretty much pariahs now." Hermione said.

"Not to mention he's a grade-A prat. Who'd want to be friends with him?" Ron asked.

"Teddy," Hermione said without thinking.

Her two friends looked over at her in shock. "Every time he's around Malfoy, his hair turns blond." Hermione explained. "I'm not kidding. He's in love with Malfoy."

"Just like his baby-sitter," Ron said. "When can we expect a wedding date?"

"How about never," she said.

"Where's your sense of romance, Hermione?" Harry said, pretending to stare off into space with a dreamy look on his face. "Sworn enemies whose differences melt away in the fire of their all-consuming love." Harry looked back at her, grinning widely. "Isn't it every girl's fantasy to tame the bad boy?"

"Maybe every _stupid_ girl's fantasy," Hermione said. "Besides, Malfoy's too much of a coward to be truly bad."

"So if he isn't truly bad that means he's a little good. Sounds like she's warming up to him already, Harry," Ron said. Then he started to make kissing noises. Were it not that she was attending a work function, Hermione would have punched him. Repeatedly. "Oh, do grow up!"

"Oh, Draco," Ron said in a high pitched voice. "Let me have your blond, Slytherin babies."

"Not in a million years, Weasley."

The three of them whipped around, staring horrified at an amused Malfoy.

After the shock wore off, Hermione looked at her friends. Harry was shaking from the effort it took to keep him from laughing, while Ron was as red as a tomato.

"Well, I know you have work to do, Hermione. Ron and I will just go get settled for the game. Nice seeing you, Malfoy. Cheers." Then Harry led a mute Ron toward the bar.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Malfoy said.

"Actually, you did."

"Still sore about what happened last time? That was over two weeks ago. It's not healthy to carry grudges, Hermione."

"I told you not to call me that."

"Why? That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…" It just didn't feel right. Last names implied distance. Distance from Malfoy was familiar, and Hermione didn't like change.

"If it makes you feel better, you may call me Draco."

"I prefer Malfoy."

"Suit yourself."

The two stood in silence, watching the players line up for the start of the game. After a few awkward minutes, Hermione couldn't take it any longer. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"While my father is under house arrest, I represent Malfoy Industries at public functions."

"Oh." Really, how else was she to respond to that? The usual 'I'm sorry' didn't apply. Lucius Malfoy deserved much worse.

"I also had hopes of catching another glimpse of the Golden Snitch."

"It will be a bit hard to see, given that—" Hermione stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as the import of his words hit home. Stupid Quidditch panties! She'd make sure to burn them the instant she got home.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know what game you're playing here, but I'm not interested. My undergarments aren't up for discussion. Not now, not ev-"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw something fly toward the window. Out of reflex, she threw up her arms, covering her head. She let out a small shriek of terror as a stray bludger smashed into the viewing wall of the corporate box.

When it didn't shatter the glass, Hermione glanced up, hoping no one noticed her

Everyone seemed to be staring at her and Malfoy, who was dripping wet, covered with her butterbeer.

"And you said _I_ was a coward?" Malfoy remarked, wiping the liquid from his face.

He had heard that? Hermione tried not to blush. After all, it was true.

He took out his wand, and she automatically reached for hers. It was already pointed on Malfoy when she realized he was using his to dry himself off.

"Put that away, or you'll look even more ridiculous than you already do. Did you really expect the bludger to break through the glass? Here's a newsflash. It's magically impenetrable." Malfoy rapped the glass with his wand a few times to prove his point.

Not that the slight tap of a wand compared to the force of a murderous bludger intent on her destruction. But Hermione knew she was in no position to quibble. She quickly pocketed her wand in her robes, feeling every inch the idiot. "I'm sorry. I've never been in one of these boxes before."

"Obviously."

Dry once more, Malfoy put back his wand. "I need a drink. Do you want another?"

She nodded her head, not quite certain what he had asked her.

When he returned, he handed her a firewhisky.

"I had a butterbeer."

"And?"

Since she had spilled her drink all over him, she figured she owed it to him to keep quiet. Taking a sip of the fluid, Hermione started coughing, forcing herself to choke it down. It tasted awful and burned along the length of her esophagus.

When Malfoy laughed at her, Hermione started chugging the vile liquid, glaring at him over the rim of her glass.

"You're welcome," he said.

The two lapsed into silence, but Hermione felt it was his turn to initiate conversation, so she said nothing.

"Who do you want to win?" he asked.

"I don't really care," she said. "You?"

"I placed a bet on Puddlemere."

"Are you a fan?"

"Of Falmouth, yes."

Hermione's brow knit in confusion. "Then how can you bet against them?"

"Simple. Puddlemere has a stronger team this year."

"But they aren't _your_ team."

"Doesn't matter."

Silence. Again.

Unfortunately, it was her turn. "Have you seen Teddy lately?"

"Mother and I visited just last week."

"And how is he?"

"Don't know. He didn't really say."

Without thinking, Hermione let out a small laugh at his joke, then quickly tried to hide it behind her glass of firewhisky. Tipping it back, she realized it was empty.

"Would you like another?"

"Sure?"

Hermione forced herself to keep watching the game instead of Malfoy's retreating back. She wasn't sure she knew how to handle him being semi-decently behaved, but she was not going to upset the delicate balance. Not when she was going to ask him if he wanted to donate to the Ministry.

He came back, handing her another glass. "Thank you," she said. She waited another second before getting down to business. "I know this is a bit out of the blue, but have you ever considered donating money to the Ministry of Magic?"

"No."

"Would you?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What's in it for me?"

What's in it for him? What kind of question was that? "The satisfaction of knowing you did the right thing."

"Not interested. Sorry."

Hermione bit her tongue. Of course he wouldn't understand an appeal to what was right. He was selfish. Greedy. Mercenary. Stingy. And really really mean.

"I'm surprised at you, Hermione. For someone who prides herself on being the best at everything, your sales pitch is abysmal."

"This is for a good cause, not me trying to get you to buy the Nimbus 200."

"Nimbus 2001."

"Whatever. The point is, doing the right thing shouldn't be treated as if it were an ad campaign."

"Then you aren't going to make any money. Look around, Hermione. You are surrounded by business people. Even if they are interested in doing the right thing, they need to be able to justify it to their boards and investors. You mentioned nothing about possible tax write-offs, recognition the companies would receive, financial partnerships that could be struck between the Ministry and their companies. I don't even know what you plan to do with the money once you have it."

"Well, I work in the department for magical creatures, and one of the things we are currently working on is trying to protect the habitats that are in danger of being destroyed."

"Won't work. Too boring. Are any of the animals cute?"

Too upset to fully appreciate that Malfoy had just said the word cute, Hermione said, "I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

"Just answer the question."

"Are you implying that just because some creatures aren't as good looking as the others, they don't deserve our care and attention?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and walked away.

Well, that was abrupt. And quite rude. Before she could dwell on it any further, he was on his way back, leading a brightly dressed woman on his arm. Hermione thought the lady gaudy and ostentatious. Was it really necessary to have a ring on each of her fingers?

"Hermione, I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Gemma Aurum. She is in charge of the jeweler's guild in England."

The lady held out her hand, and Hermione wondered if she expected her to kiss it. She shook it instead. Rather awkwardly. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Aurum."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you. Please, call me Gemma."

Malfoy seemed to expect her to say something, but Hermione was clueless as to what exactly it was. With a slight shake of his head and a small, exasperated sigh, he turned to Gemma.

"Hermione was just telling me about her work with the firecrab. Were you aware that they are in danger of becoming extinct?"

"Yes, though it's no wonder. I saw one while on vacation in Fiji a few years back. They're shells are absolutely gorgeous. I hear they are used to make the most beautiful decorative cauldrons."

Hermione felt herself grow angry, and she was just about to give a piece of her mind to the materialistic witch when Malfoy's hand lightly gripped her elbow.

"A travesty, I know," Draco said, lowering his head in a moment of silence. "Perhaps, Gemma, you could be so gracious as to shed light on this issue. A person in your position would instantly command attention."

Hermione watched as the lady ate up Malfoy's garbage like a goat. Or possibly a raccoon. "Oh, how kind of you to say. But I'm not really sure how I could accomplish that."

"You could design brooches and pendants that resemble the firecrab shells, with a portion of proceeds going to the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I know my mother would be interested in purchasing one of them."

The lady pursed her lips, then suddenly broke out in laughter. "Why, Draco, that's a marvelous idea. I'm sure I could sell quite a few of those…You know who you might wish to speak to? James Vola. I hear he has a soft spot for all these little creatures. Anyway, I must be going.'"

"Hermione will contact you after the game so you can solidify your partnership," Malfoy said.

"Splendid. I look forward to speaking with you again, dear. And, Draco, please tell your mother hello."

"Of course."

And with that the lady walked off.

Draco turned to Hermione. "Do you know who James Vola is?"

Still dumbfounded by what had just happened, she barely managed to answer in the negative.

"Remind me again why they let you graduate from Hogwarts? Next time you come to one of these events, you should already know who will be attending and what line of work they are in. That way you can better market your ideas. James Vola is involved in the traveling industry. You could probably sell him on vacations to visit endangered species. And that man over there--"

Hermione turned her head.

"Don't look."

Hermione stared up at Malfoy, sufficiently chastened.

"That's Felix Delectam. He owns a chain of toy stores across Europe. If any of your creatures are of the 'cute and cuddly' variety, he could market them into a line of toys."

For the next thirty minutes, Malfoy proceeded to point out various people of importance and ways she could appeal to them for money. All in all, it was a very enlightening experience. When it was over, Hermione couldn't keep from smiling, brimming over with excitement over all the many possibilities.

Feeling hopeful, Hermione said, "So, can I expect you to donate to the cause of the firecrab?"

Malfoy looked at her as if she had just suggested he shave his head. "Those wretched creatures? I don't think so. Anything that can shoot flames out its arse needs neither my help nor my money. Nothing personal, it's just a matter of principle."

Boy, had she underestimated him. The hackles on Hermione's neck rose. This was so typical of him. "I wasn't aware you had any."

Ignoring her, Malfoy ranted a little more. "Really, Hermione, you might as well ask me if I want to hug a hippogriff. Or liberate my house elves."

And this was exactly why she didn't like Draco Malfoy. He hadn't changed one bit. Hermione was grateful for the reminder.

"Well, it's been…interesting. I should really be going. Harry and Ron are probably wondering where I am."

"Doubtful. They've been sitting on that couch over there for the last hour paying attention to nothing but the game."

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

He nodded his head. "Hermione."

Fists clenched at her sides, she walked over to her friends on the couch. "Where were you? I can't believe you left me alone with him for nearly an hour!"

Not even giving her a glance, attention fixed solely on the game, Harry said, "We thought about rescuing you, but you didn't look like you wanted it."

"Yeah, Malfoy seemed to be able to handle the bludger attack by himself," Ron added.

"Maybe we should invite him over here," Harry said.

Their attempts at baiting her fell flat. With the effects of the firewhisky starting to kick in, Hermione didn't really care about their teasing. "Whatever," she said, settling in between them. "Who's winning?"

"Puddlemere is crushing Falmouth."

Hermione snuck a glance at Malfoy, only to find him watching her. He lifted his glass in salute before turning back to the game.

"So what were you and Malfoy talking about?" Harry asked, still engrossed by the on-pitch action.

"Future wedding plans?" Ron said.

Hermione threw back the rest of her firewhiskey.

"Just business."

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**A/N: Please review. Thanks for reading. **


	4. Miserable Mill

A/N: I own nothing.

So, I really should be working on a paper for school. It's due early next week, so I probably should stop writing this story for a while. I plan on picking up right where I left off, though. But no more daily updates.

Hopefully, Hermione doesn't come across as OOC in this chapter. She always struck me as extremely high-strung, so I thought her behavior made sense. I'm sure you'll let me know if I was wrong.

The title is in reference to a Rumor Mill, or perhaps the Daily Grind that is working for the Ministry. Who knows.

**ETA:** Someone pointed out some plot holes. I tried to fill them. Also caught a few typos. Sorry about that. **:D**

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Four:**

**Miserable Mill**

* * *

Hermione strode down the hallways of the Ministry, attempting to balance her files and cup of coffee on top of her briefcase. Considering she was wearing a new pair of heels that were two inches higher than her usual flats, she was quite pleased with herself.

However, her satisfaction was slightly tempered by the odd looks and whispers that followed her as she walked towards her office. Nothing new, nothing she couldn't handle. She was just about to push the door open with her hip when she noticed an issue of that day's Daily Prophet crawling up her door.

"What?!"

Hermione dropped her briefcase, scattering her files all over the floor and spilling coffee down the front of her shirt. Yanking the paper down, she retreated into her office, slamming the door behind her.

Her eyes scanned the page once more, transfixed in horror.

**Disgraced Pureblood Prince and Potter's Princess Make Magic Together**

**An exclusive by guest writer Rita Skeeter**

With a bang, Hermione collapsed against her office door too engrossed by the train wreck of an article to think of the coffee stain setting into her shirt. There was a picture of her leaning into Malfoy as he handed her a glass of firewhisky. Their fingers brushed against each other, and she was smiling up at him like a lovesick fool. But that was nowhere near as bad as the other photograph. Malfoy was running his fingers up and down the length of her arm while she did nothing but giggle.

And it only got worse.

"Much as the two attempted to hide their forbidden relationship, it was evident to all in attendance that Miss Granger was quite smitten with Mr. Malfoy, who the Prophet has on high authority is her first boyfriend."

And

"Even Miss Granger's friends seem to approve of the match. The Golden Trio were overheard discussing the possibility of a future marriage, and at one point in the conversation, it was clearly heard, "Draco, let me have your blond, Slytherin babies." While we cannot confirm who actually said this, given that both Ron Weasley and Harry Potter are in committed relationships with Lavender Brown and Ginny Weasley, respectively, it seems reasonable to conclude Miss Granger is hoping to provide a few new additions to this historic house."

And

"While Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy could not be reached for comment, they will most likely look favorably on this new development. According to today's Daily Prophet poll, their approval rating is at thirty-seven percent, up from last week's twenty-one percent result. As the Malfoy family seeks to reclaim their status in a post-Voldemort world, their son's clandestine coupling with Miss Granger could not have come at a more opportune time. If recent poll results are to be believed, a Malfoy-Granger union would go a long way in helping the public forget this ancient family's past misdeeds. See page three for the related article on Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's possible wedding plans."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" Hermione groaned, starting to sink to the floor.

"And here I thought you'd be excited that we no longer have to hide our amor."

Hermione jumped in the air, heart straining out of her chest. Lowering the paper, she glared at the intruder, who happened to be sitting in _her_ seat with his feet propped up on _her_ desk.

"How did you get in here?!" she gasped, still waiting for her heart to recover.

"The door was open. I walked in."

"My door was open?" She never left her door open.

"Well, it was unlocked, but let's not haggle over semantics."

She didn't leave her door unlocked either. The snake broke in!

Whipping out her wand, Hermione walked over to him, pointing it under his throat. There was no Ron or Harry to save him now. But unlike the Buckbeak incident in third year when Malfoy was reduced to a quivering mess, the boy didn't even react. Just brushed her wand to the side, looking up at her with an infuriating calm.

"Really, Hermione? I lived under the same roof as Voldemort. And as much as you pretend to be a harpy, I know you don't have it in you to harm a house-elf, let alone your very first boyfriend."

This was bordering on ridiculous. Sure, she should have expected to run into Malfoy at some point during her life; wizarding Britain was large, but not that large. But four times in two weeks. "Are you stalking me?" she said.

"Good morning to you too."

Shoving Malfoy's feet to the floor, she began brushing the surface of her desk with her hands. "Did anyone see you come in?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down.

"Relax. There's no point in hiding anymore." He waved his own copy of the Daily Prophet in the air. "The secret's out."

Hermione tore the paper away, smacking Malfoy on the arm. "This isn't funny! Now get out of my chair."

Malfoy wouldn't budge, so she yanked on his arm, succeeding only in being pulled into his lap. She tried scrambling up, but he wouldn't release her. "You realize I only do this because it riles you up. If you would just stop, maybe even ask nicely, I would let you go."

Before she could respond, a series of knocks came at her door. "Granger, are you in there? And what's this mess outside your door?" The voice was gravelly, like there was a frog stuck in the man's throat. It sounded like…

Malfoy looked about to speak, so Hermione slapped one hand over his mouth, while the other she used to place a finger on her lips. It was a universally accepted symbol for "Be quiet, you idiot" but somehow Malfoy had missed that particular memo.

"Come in," he said.

Malfoy finally let go. From the way Hermione leapt out of his lap, one would think she was sitting on a bed of hot coals.

A short, round man with a bushy red beard waddled into her office, holding his own copy of the Daily Prophet. Wayne Scholes, head of her department, a.k.a. worst boss in the world and bane of her existence. Well, after the prat sitting in her chair. "Granger, what's this nonsense about—Oy, what's this? I don't pay you to fraternize with your boyfriend."

"Not at all, Mr. Scholes." Draco stood up and walked towards her boss, extending his arm for a handshake, which Hermione noticed was not returned. "I was just here on a matter of business."

Scholes cleared his throat, tucking the paper under his arm. "I suppose I have you to thank for the recent influx of donations our department has received."

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the loud throat clearing of Mr. Scholes. "Hmmmm. Hmmmergh." He sounded like a bullfrog. Hermione tried not to gag as he finally managed to dislodge the phlegm from his throat and hock it into her rubbish bin. Malfoy, she noticed, didn't even seem to be affected. No doubt he was desensitized by growing up with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'm afraid I can't take any credit for that, sir. Much as Rita Skeeter thinks I was responsible, it was Miss Granger who convinced the investors to donate to your worthy cause."

"I suppose you'll be wanting some kind of financial recognition for it, Granger?"

Why yes, as a matter of fact she did. She had earned it, practically killing herself with work the very instant she had been hired. But these weren't things she could very well say to her boss.

It turns out the man wasn't even expecting an answer.

"Very well, very well. I suppose we can also move you into Bob's corner office while we're at it. He decided to take the job in the Beast Division just this morning. We'll have you in his office by late afternoon."

Without another word, her boss shuffled out of the office.

"You don't have to thank me," Malfoy said. "Though it would be understandable if you did."

Hermione began pacing the office, wringing her hands, completely oblivious to the fact that Malfoy had once again claimed her chair.

"Thank you?! Thank you?! Why would I do that? My coworkers already dislike me. Now they're going to despise me," Hermione groaned.

Malfoy reclined his head against the back of her chair, staring up at her ceiling. "Do you ever stop?"

"Don't you get it, Malfoy? I haven't even been here three months and already I'm getting a promotion. Everyone already thinks I got this job because I'm Harry Potter's best friend. And now, now they'll think that I got this promotion because I'm your girlfriend."

"Who cares what they think?" A stray lock of blond hair fell in his eyes, and he blew it away. His devil-may-care attitude was beginning to grate on her nerves. She was going through a crisis, and he couldn't even get worked up enough to understand why she should be upset.

The anger, annoyance, and weariness were a lethal combination.

"I care," she wailed. She felt the tears threatening to spill over and quickly wiped them away.

"For someone who is considered the brightest witch of her generation, you sure are thick. If you haven't noticed, as far as the wizarding world is concerned, I'm persona non grata. The only reason I was able to get that Aurum lady to speak with you yesterday is because she is an old friend of my mother's. And no one thinks you've risen to your position here by hanging onto Potter's dress robes. If anything, it was the other way around. Potter's too stupid to find his way out of a bag."

Hermione sat down in the middle of the floor, eyes still watering. She wanted to stop crying, really she did. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not the coffee stain on her shirt, or the mess outside her door. Not the horrible lies printed in that stupid paper, or the boss who didn't respect or pay any attention to her hard work, only promoting her because he didn't want to look like he was mistreating Harry Potter's best friend. Not coworkers who whispered behind her back and looked down on her for her age. And certainly not Draco Malfoy witnessing her losing her mind. Merlin, this was so humiliating.

Ever since she had joined the ministry, she had worked herself into the ground, over-committing herself with project after project to prove that she didn't intend to coast on Harry's fame, that she really belonged here in spite of her age. She literally had no break since the end of the War. Mourning the loss of everyone who had died, finding her parents, dealing with the whole Ron situation, graduating from Hogwarts. And now, the week before her monthlies, it was all crashing down. Even her hormones were conspiring against her. She knew this breakdown had been coming for months. But it was supposed to happen within the privacy of her own flat, not in front of Malfoy! It was just too much to take. Hermione lay down on the ground, willing it to swallow her up.

"Bloody hell, what is the matter with you?" Malfoy walked over to her, and she started crying harder. "You're going to have to get up. I refuse to sit on the floor," he said.

"Leave me alone," she groaned. "Just," heart-rending sigh, "Go," pitiful sniffle, "Away," banshee wail.

To her surprise, he did.

Fine. She didn't want him there anyway.

Curling up in a ball, Hermione lay her face against the cool tile of her office floor. She would eventually get up, she promised herself.

She was still wallowing in the unfairness and hardship that was her life, when a few seconds later Malfoy re-entered her room, arms full of her briefcase and the files she had earlier spilled outside her office. Hermione watched as he carefully stepped over her prone form, giving her a floor-level view of his dragonhide shoes. Placing her items on top of the desk, he sat down in her chair and began scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

After a few minutes of non-stop writing, Hermione's interest was sufficiently piqued. Still sniffling, she rose from the floor and walked over to him, curious to see what he was writing. From her perch over his right shoulder, she could see that the letter was addressed to the editor of the Daily Prophet, and Malfoy looked like he was just about finished.

"Here," he thrust a handkerchief at her, not looking up. "Can't have you sullying my letter with your tears. And while you're at it, get that stain off your shirt. It looks terrible."

She took the kerchief, but didn't move.

Draco spun the chair around, staring cooly at her. "Most people consider reading over another person's shoulder rude."

Well, at least he wasn't rubbing her bout of insanity in her face that much. She welcomed the return to their familiar hostilities. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Draco whipped out his wand, and she took a step back, almost falling. Last time she wore heels to look older.

He caught her by the wrist, steadying her, then flicked his wand. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing, well, just afraid. "Tergeo." Then the pressure of his hand was gone. Hermione opened her eyes, staring down at her person. The coffee stain had vanished. She lifted her hands to her face. It was no longer covered with the wet of her tears.

Malfoy was already back at work with his letter. This time when she leaned over him, he made no argument.

"To Barnabus Cuffe:

While I am aware that your paper has long since abandoned the pursuit of truth and that journalistic integrity is a term you are no longer familiar with, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet calls into question your ability to helm this paper in a way that no previous issue has before it. You may be wondering which article revealed your complete and utter ineptitude as an editor. Considering your whole paper is rife with those enemies of the truth—bias and falsehood—that most papers strive to avoid, that is wholly understandable. Allow me to enlighten you: Rita Skeeter's article on Hermione Granger and myself, Draco Malfoy, could not be farther from the truth.

Even though both Miss Granger and I attended the Puddlemere United and Falmouth Falcons Quidditch match, and even though we spoke with one another, it is the height of stupidity to infer a forbidden relationship from a chance meeting between old schoolmates. Both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were also in attendance, conversing politely with each other, and yet there was no similar story. I can only assume that the article on their secret relationship is forthcoming.

I should also point out that the quote, "Draco, let me have your blond, Slytherin babies," has been incorrectly attributed to Miss Granger. While this was spoken by one of the so-called Golden Trio, it was in fact Ronald Weasley who is interested in producing Malfoy heirs, not Miss Granger. I assume the article on his unhealthy obsession with myself is also forthcoming.

I could go on but have neither the time nor inclination to do so. Given all these blatant and willful inaccuracies, you will understand my demand for both a full retraction of your story and a written apology to both myself and Miss Granger in your next edition. If you choose not to comply, you can expect to hear from my solicitors.

Another dissatisfied reader,

Draco B. Malfoy"

By the time Hermione finished reading the letter, her sides ached from laughing. "You can't send that." She paused to take a breath. "Ron would kill me. Then you."

"Weasley beat me in a duel? Now I know you've lost the plot. Where's your owl?"

"No, Malfoy. You aren't sending this. It's…alright." Hermione took the missive from his hand, tossing it into the fireplace before casting an Incendio spell.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, placing his feet back on the desk. "Not even five minutes ago you were bawling your eyes out over being linked with me in the press. Forgive me if I'm not convinced."

Hermione sat down tiredly on the edge of her desk. "I've just been having a rough couple of…months. Now that I got that all out, I'm much better."

One pale blond eyebrow arched toward his forehead.

"Really I am!" Hermione said, emphasizing her point with a wild gesturing of her hands.

"So I take it you no longer have any objections to the wizarding population thinking we are a couple," Malfoy said.

"You're right, I shouldn't care what they think."

"Exactly. They're all idiots anyway."

"That's not what I meant. I shouldn't care because as long as I know the truth, it doesn't matter."

"Six of one, half dozen of the other."

"It's _not_ the same thing, but I'm too tired to argue with you."

Conversation pretty much at an end, Hermione expected Malfoy to clear out. But after nearly a minute of silence, he still hadn't moved.

"Malfoy, can I ask you a question?"

"I suppose I can allow you this one boon."

Hermione shook her head, pressing her lips firmly together. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop by."

"What business would you have here?"

"Would you believe I was giving money to your department?"

"After the scene you made yesterday when I asked you to donate, I'm going to say no."

"I said 'no,' not 'never,'" Malfoy said. "If you had done your research properly as I advised, you would have found sufficient temptation to get me to donate."

"And what would that be? No wait, let me guess. The restoration of your family's good name. "

"Ten points to Gryffindor."

"So what can I interest you in?" Hermione leaned forward on her desk. "Manufacturing quills from the feathers that have fallen off your albino peacocks? Or perhaps we could make a line of stuffed ferrets? I'm sure Teddy would love one of those."

Draco smiled up at her from his chair. "Even though neither of those are magical creatures, that was actually pretty clever. I bet you've been practicing those since yesterday."

Hermione tapped her temple. "Nope. It was the instantaneous product of the brightest mind of our times."

"Fair enough."

"Ok. I'm done guessing. What are you donating money for?"

"I never said I was donating anything. I have a fine to pay, though if the Ministry really wishes to deter me, they should charge more than chump change. Apparently, one of the Malfoy Industry factories has been releasing pollution into the Indian Ocean, thus greatly harming the population of the," he pulled out a letter and unfolded it, "ramora fish." He put the letter back. "Whatever that is."

Courtesy of that mandatory meeting on fish mating two weeks ago, Hermione knew all the ins and outs of the ramora. She was just about to give him a lesson when he stood up from her seat.

"Well, I've wasted enough time here." Taking out a coin bag, he threw a handful of galleons down on her desk. "I can't remember who I'm supposed to pay the fine to. I trust you'll see that it ends up in the proper hands."

Hermione scoffed. "Do it yourself."

"Can't. Running late for my massage appointment. I'm sure you understand."

He was halfway out the door when he stopped.

That's right, come back, you lazy git. Honestly, who did he think he was leaving her to do his dirty work?

"And, Hermione, if you decide to change your mind, let me know. I'll gladly write another letter informing Cuffe that it's the Weasel that wants to give birth to my children."

And then he closed the door.

Hermione shook her head, not even trying anymore to keep the smile from forming on her face. She was just about to take the money to the appropriate division when her genius conjured another spontaneous product. Gathering up the coins, she placed them in a pouch, then summoned two of the Ministry's owls. The first she sent down the hall with the money to the Being Division. The second flew to Malfoy Manor.

Attached to the owl's leg was a button enchanted to sing the praises of Draco Malfoy—friend and benefactor to house-elves everywhere.

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**A/N: Please review. Thanks for reading. :D**


	5. Austere Academy, Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

This one is going to be a two-parter because it's getting a bit longish.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Five:**

**Austere Academy, Part One

* * *

  
**

It was a beautiful Saturday. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Hermione could almost convince herself that all was right with the world.

There she lay atop a big blanket, arms crossed under her head. She was joined by Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, who were all in various states of relaxation themselves.

They had picked a spot far away from the castle, near the entrance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A year and a half after the Final Battle, the land and building still bore the marks of that deadly day. They would never truly disappear. The damage was too deep. But rather than gaping wounds, the grounds seemed only scarred. The passage of time had brought some healing and would continue to knit together what had once been broken.

The knowledge was bittersweet.

In the background, the sound of students practicing on the Quidditch pitch barely reached her ears. Just down the road and past the gate, the people of Hogsmeade were bustling about their little town. Hermione closed her eyes, letting the sun soak into her skin as she listened to the boys converse.

"Thinking about becoming an Auror myself, actually. Maybe in a year or two. I'm kind of enjoying working with George," Ron said.

"Why don't you just ask me what it's like?" Harry said.

"Because I'd like to hear what Neville thinks…hear about being an Auror from the other side."

"There isn't much to tell. It kept me busy. It wasn't bad or anything. I just…I've seen enough violence in my life. Besides," Neville quickly added, "I really enjoy working with Professor Sprout."

"When she retires are you going to take over for her?' Harry asked.

"Maybe. That's kind of why I'm doing this internship. We'll see how it goes. What about you, Hermione? Any plans to teach here? McGonagall said there's always a place for you here."

"I know, and it's so tempting." Hermione let out a sigh. "But I think I can accomplish more good at the Ministry."

"If they don't drive you to an early grave," Harry said.

"Don't remind me. It's the weekend. I think I've earned the right to not talk about work," Hermione said.

"Good, because there's something I've been meaning to ask Neville," Ron said. Even though she couldn't see Ron's face, from the tone of his voice, Hermione knew he was itching for mischief.

"Huh?" the innocent Neville asked.

"What's this I hear about you and Hannah Abbot?"

Hermione opened her eyes and snuck a glance at Neville.

"N-nothing," he replied.

Ron faked a series of coughs that managed to sound an awful lot like the word 'Hufflepuff.'

"We're just friends," Neville said, a bit too loudly.

Harry and Ron shared a look. "Friends…right."

Neville cleared his throat, pulling slightly at the collar of his robes. "So, uh, Hermione, I saw that paper that said you and Malfoy were dating."

And to think she had been on the verge of defending that Hufflepuff lover from Harry and Ron.

"Nice try, Neville, but you know nothing's going on between me and Malfoy," she said.

"Yeah, Ron's called dibs," Harry said.

Neville looked on in confusion while Hermione and Harry burst into laughter.

Ron was not amused. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. I can't believe they even included that Slytherin babies quote in the article."

"That was _you_ that said that?" Neville asked, mind clearly blown.

"I was making fun of Hermione," Ron said, viciously pulling up a patch of grass. "They took it out of context."

"And in what context _do_ you want to have Malfoy's blond, Slytherin babies?" Neville asked.

Ron threw the patch of grass at him in answer.

Having gotten her laughter under control, Hermione said, "No need to get defensive. I'm the one who had to suffer for your bout of verbal incontinence."

"Thank Merlin for that," Ron said under his breath. Luckily for him, Hermione was in a wonderful mood.

Smile on her face, she advised, "Maybe next time you'll think twice before voicing your desire to have Malfoy's babies."

"Speaking of suffering," Harry said, turning to her, "You don't seem all that upset. Considering your hatred for Skeeter and Malfoy, I'm surprised your brain hasn't exploded yet."

"Believe me, I already had my meltdown." Hermione groaned, just thinking about it. "And in front of Malfoy too."

"You ran into him again?" Harry asked, sitting up.

The atmosphere suddenly changed, putting Hermione on the alert. "He visited me in my office the day after the Quidditch match," she admitted, somewhat hesitantly.

Now Ron was sitting up. "I'm not sure I like the idea of him hanging around you," he said.

"It was one time, and that was over a month ago. _You two_ were practically planning my wedding to him."

"We were _joking_! Now that he's actually interested in you, I don't want you anywhere near him," Ron ordered.

"That really isn't your decision, now is it," she said, once again feeling annoyed. So much for her wonderful mood.

"So you _do_ want him near you?!" Ron asked, incredulous.

Hermione covered her face with her hands, taking a few seconds to calm down. When she was certain she could keep from yelling, she managed to grit out, "I am not, I repeat NOT, interested in Draco Malfoy. But you have no right to tell me who I can and cannot spend time with."

Harry finally stepped in. "I think what Ron's trying to say," he stopped to glare at their red-headed friend, "and rather poorly I might add, is that it's a bit odd that you keep running into Malfoy."

Ron snorted. "Odd's not the word I'd use. Diabolical, more like."

Harry continued. "And I'm sorry, Hermione, but I agree with him. I have no trouble believing that he is using you…to you know, improve his family's reputation."

"Then he'd better try harder, because in all my dealings with him, he has been nothing but a loathsome toad," Hermione said.

"That's not what it looked like at the Quidditch match."

"Harry, you know wizard pictures can be spelled to show false images," she said.

"I'm not talking about the pictures in the Daily Prophet. We were there, remember? Malfoy wasn't acting like much of a loathsome toad then."

"Of course he was."

"Do loathsome toads—"

"Could we please stop referring to toads as loathsome?" Neville interrupted.

"Uh, sorry, mate," Harry said, before turning back to Hermione. "You spilled your drink on Malfoy, and rather than getting upset, he got you another one. And when it ran out, he got you another one again. He helped find someone to donate to your department. When you were about to explode at that lady with all the jewelry, he grabbed your arm and calmed you down."

Hermione sat up and stared at Harry, mouth wide open. She thought he'd been watching the game. Quickly shutting her mouth, she argued, "That doesn't mean anything."

"Naturally. I'm wrong, you're right. But just out of curiosity, what exactly happened in your office?" he replied.

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap. Even now, admitting her weakness, even amongst friends, was not something she wanted to do.

"OK, Hermione. Let's see if I can make this easier for you. Did he make fun of you for crying?" Harry said.

"Yes! He threw a handkerchief at me, and told me to stop so I wouldn't mess up his letter."

"What letter?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyes widened, but she tried to play it off. "It was nothing. Some silly thing he was working on."

"Hermione…what letter," Harry said.

"It better not have been love poetry," Ron grumbled.

"Of course it wasn't! It was a letter to Barnabas Cuffe," Hermione said, counting on none of them knowing who that was.

"The editor of the Daily Prophet?" Neville asked.

Thanks, Neville.

Ron looked up, alarmed. "What's Malfoy doing writing a letter to him?"

"You saw that story. It was chock full of lies. If he hadn't written it, I would have done it myself. But don't worry, Ron. We didn't send it. You're secret's safe," Hermione said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Like he was some kind of sage instead of the guy who routinely donned his invisibility cloak to scare Ron. "So, he gives you a hankie to dry your eyes and defends your honor from Rita Skeeter. Sounds like a regular villain."

"When you say it like that, it sounds all well and good, but you weren't there." Hermione protested.

They also didn't see him pick up her briefcase and files and fix her shirt. Or make her laugh.

"So, basically you're saying he wasn't a complete and utter toerag?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly, no," Hermione said. But quietly, so she didn't have to hear her answer.

OK, _perhaps_ Malfoy wasn't as bad as he used to be, but that didn't change the situation.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, he's bad news. Before you know it, you'll start to feel sorry for him. And then." Ron made a dramatic show of shaping his fingers into a snake's head, then used it to strike out at an unsuspecting Neville.

"Ow," the herbologist said, rubbing his arm. "What was that for?"

"Just proving my point with a little...visual rhetorical flourish," Ron said.

"Anyway, we're talking about Malfoy here," Hermione said. "He would never lower himself to dating a muggleborn, even if it is to regain his reputation. And even if he did, there are hundreds of other muggleborn witches out there."

"But none of them are you," Harry said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

Ron answered, "You're Hermione Granger. It wouldn't matter if you were the ugliest or most annoying witch in the world—"

"Not that you are," Harry interrupted, with Neville vociferously shaking his head in agreement.

Ron continued, "_Hermione Granger_ is the most famous Muggleborn witch. _Hermione Granger_ is the brightest of her generation. _Hermione Granger _is a war hero. No other muggleborn can say that. Only…" He paused, pointing at his fellow males.

"Hermione Granger," they said in one accord.

Well, they did have a point. But still…

"Don't you get it? None of that matters. _Hermione Granger—_" she stopped to mock them with air quotes, "is not going to date Draco Malfoy."

Wanting some support, she looked over at Neville. He held up his hands. "I'm staying out of this."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I bet all of your and Hannah's children will be Hufflepuffs!"

Neville turned bright red, and the other two boys started laughing.

"Maybe we should change the subject," Harry said. "When is Andromeda coming with Teddy?"

"I think she said noon. She's having lunch with someone in Hogsmeade," Hermione said.

Harry looked down at his watch. "She should have gotten here thirty minutes ago."

"That's just her way; she never shows up on time," Ron said.

"Uh, guys," Neville said, "I hate to spoil the peace, but isn't that Malfoy?"

The Golden Trio turned their heads in unison. Sure enough, there was Malfoy coming towards them, hand in hand with a stumbling Teddy Lupin.

Neville rose to his feet. "I just remembered I had a meeting with Professor Sprout?"

"On a Saturday?" said Hermione, not believing him. "Seriously, Neville. He's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of him. I just don't want to stay around and hear him prattle on about anything and everything. Anyone want to come with?"

"I think I'll join you," Ron said, hastily getting up. "Hermione, Harry, you coming?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll catch up with you two later."

"There's no need to be rude," Hermione hissed. "Besides, he has Teddy with him."

"I don't care if he's brought a flock of Veelas, I'm leaving," Ron said, and with that he and Neville began the long trek to the castle.

"Thanks for staying, Harry," Hermione said.

"I still agree with Ron," he replied.

A few moments later, Malfoy and Teddy (with blond hair, naturally) stopped in front of them. "Hermione. Potter."

"Malfoy," they said.

Harry bent over to pick up the small boy. "Hello, Teddy."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Malfoy warned. "He's been cranky all morning. We would have been here sooner, but he cried every time I tried to carry him."

As if to prove Malfoy right, Teddy let out a loud wail. Harry was forced to put the boy down.

"I thought Andromeda was bringing him," Hermione said.

"I got tasked with it. She's at the Three Broomsticks with my mother," he said.

The way Harry was watching her and Malfoy was making Hermione uncomfortable. Trying to strike up a conversation, she said, "Harry's baby-sitting Teddy this weekend."

"I see. Do you watch him often?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes, actually. He's my godson. You know, Malfoy, it's funny you should show up. We were just talking about you."

"Harry!" Hermione said, in a harsh whisper.

But that didn't deter him. "You've recently taken to spending time with Hermione."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Can't put anything past you, can I?"

Harry took a small step forward. "What are you up to, Malfoy?"

This was not happening. She wouldn't allow it. Pushing Harry away, she called to Malfoy over her shoulder, "Excuse us a moment."

"Take your time," he replied.

When they were far away enough so that Malfoy couldn't hear them, Hermione said, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Letting him know that I'm on to him."

"Look, I don't need you second-guessing me like Ron. I _don't_ like Malfoy. And if for some reason I become a totally different person, lose my mind, and develop feelings for him, I'll let you A.K. me yourself."

"You won't mind then if I invite him to play a game of Quidditch?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Maybe."

"Why? Are you and Ron going to try to intimidate him into leaving me alone? Or do you actually want to play him?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Both, I suppose. With Ginny gone, the other side's been short a seeker. And I'm sure there are quite a few of us who wouldn't mind if he became intimately acquainted with a bludger or two."

Hermione dropped her head in resignation. "Do whatever you want. I can't very well stop you from picking who you hang out with, seeing as I got upset with Ron for that same thing."

"Good. I'll owl him once I've talked it over with the rest of the players." He began walking over to Malfoy, and Hermione followed him, head hanging in defeat.

"Sorry about that." Harry picked up Teddy again, gathering the blanket. "We should probably be going," Harry said, looking uncomfortable with the crying child in his arms.

"Actually, I need to speak to him. I'll find you in a bit, OK?" Hermione said.

"We'll be waiting," Harry said, looking pointedly at their old Slytherin schoolmate. "Malfoy."

Then Harry walked off, trying not to drop the blanket or Teddy.

Once he was out of sight, Malfoy turned to her. "That was pleasant."

"If you say so."

"I know you're dying to speak to me, but is it possible we could have this conversation while walking to Hogsmeade?"

"Why? Are they expecting you?"

"Actually, Andromeda and my mother wanted to see you."

"Oh."

"You needn't say yes."

As quickly as she could, she weighed the pros and cons of the situation.

Pro: Andromeda

Con: Narcissa

Pro: Uh…

Con: Malfoy

She was just about to say no, when Malfoy said, "Of course, I understand if you don't wish to come. My mother can be very intimidating. Most witches are afraid of her."

She afraid of Narcissa? Hardly. "I suppose I could stop by for a little bit."

The two started walking the relatively short distance to Hogsmeade. There were not many people on the path, but every single person they passed gawked openly at them. Hermione tried not to notice.

"I'm glad you could come. They've been nagging me about you all day," Malfoy said.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked.

If Malfoy was thrown by the abrupt change of topic, she couldn't tell. "Would you prefer I be mean?" he asked, a small smile on his mouth. "I'm more than willing to oblige, especially where you are concerned."

"No, but I get the feeling that you have some ulterior motive for acting this way. And I would like for you to tell me what it is."

"You would like me to tell you what it is?"

Hermione raised her chin, determined that he would not use his wily ways to make her feel silly or back down from this much needed discussion. "Yes. I do."

"Perhaps I'm just in a good mood when I'm around you."

"Not possible," she said, punctuating her statement with a firm shake of her head.

"Please, tell me why I'm wrong."

Overlooking the mock pleading tone to his voice, she laid out the facts. "You're Malfoy. I'm Granger. That you would be in a good mood around me flies in the face of all logic."

"By Merlin, I think you're on to something! I must be insane for believing I could possibly enjoy the company of an intelligent, humorous, and pretty witch."

"See, that's exactly what I mean. You don't think I'm any of those things. And I'm not funny." It was true.

"Of course. How could I possibly know what I'm thinking better than you? How could _anyone_ possibly know anything better than you?"

"Is the sarcasm really necessary?"

"My apologies," he said, bowing low in a gesture of chivalry. When he straightened he said, "Why don't you just tell me what you think is motivating my behavior, since you already seem to have formed your own conclusions?"

By this time, they were both standing in front of the Three Broomsticks. Neither of them was ready to enter.

"I think you know that being seen with me would improve your public image, and you're trying to get on my good side, so I'll agree to entering a fake relationship with you."

"I've met with you a total of five times in the past two months, and only one of those happened in public. But I concede the brilliance of your theory."

"Then why does your mother want to meet me? You read the papers same as I did. You're family would gain a lot if we were in a relationship."

"My family aren't the ones that would have to pretend to be in love with a...you. I'm not sure their benefits would outweigh my sufferings."

Wizard, please. The benefits would crush his sufferings. After all, "I'm Hermione Granger."

He simply stared at her, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

"As you said so yourself, a Malfoy can't enjoy a Granger."

"Don't use my words against me. And I'm still right about that. But you're lying to yourself if you think dating me would be worse than once again ruling the highest wizarding social circles."

Why was he smiling? She was soundly defeating him with truth and light and every other thing that he was too slow to comprehend. He should be livid, outraged, bothered.

But what if a smile was all he had left in his arsenal? She hadn't thought of that. Poor, Malfoy. He was kind of pathetic.

She was just about to say so, when he spoke. "Alright. Let's say that faux dating you wouldn't be torture of Cruciatus level proportions. Would you actually do it?"

"Do what?"

"Date me."

Before Hermione could answer, Andromeda burst out of the inn.

"Hello, dear! I see Draco was able to convince you to come. We have a table ready."

"But I—"she tried to answer, but Malfoy took her by the arm.

"Come now, Hermione. We mustn't keep them waiting."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	6. Austere Academy, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Huzzah, my paper (and pretty much my class) is over! One year of grad school down (yeah!), one more year to go (wah!). In celebration here is part two. Um, the tone of the story has changed a little, which I should have expected. If Draco and Hermione are really to have a shot at having a relationship, they are going to need to have some kind of serious discussion about the past. I tried to accomplish part of that in this chapter, but I think I've just ended up confusing myself. I hope it makes sense to you all, but feel free to point out if it doesn't. Draco and Hermione kind of perplex me. One never believes the other and the other is always so darn cryptic. Gah!

Also, not really sure what Andromeda and Narcissa are like, or the Malfoy family life for that matter, but here's my take. It's probably heavily influenced by fanartist makani. If you haven't seen her work, you really should. It's gorgeous.b

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Five:**

**Austere Academy, Part Two**

* * *

Despite the lovely weather outside, the Three Broomsticks was a bit muggy. The townspeople and older Hogsmeade students visiting during the weekend had seen to it that the place was packed.

Trepidation slightly pooling in her gut, Hermione followed Andromeda and Malfoy. Narcissa finally came into view, sitting at a table in the far corner. The blond witch looked out of place and well aware of that fact.

As they approached the table, Narcissa stood to her feet. Her displeased countenance melted, revealing a bright smile. It was odd seeing Narcissa this way. Without her customary look of disdain, Hermione had to admit she was quite beautiful.

"Well, Draco, aren't you going to introduce me?"

Hermione decided she was too polite to point out that they had already met once at Madame Malkin's. And hadn't there been another time? Oh, right. When she had been tortured in Malfoy Manor! Granted, it was in the past, and Narcissa and her family had switched allegiances in the end, but Hermione still had some residual resentment towards the woman.

"Of course, mother. Hermione, this is my mother, Narcissa. Mum, this is Hermione."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger." Narcissa extended her hand, and Hermione reluctantly shook it. The woman's touch was as light as a feather. Hermione loosened her grip, feeling somewhat like a gorilla.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." she said.

"Please, call me Narcissa." Hermione nodded her head, but didn't give Narcissa leave to call her by her Christian name.

Narcissa looked pointedly at her son, who then pulled out the chair in front of Hermione. He only sat down after the three witches had.

"I hope you don't mind, but we had been waiting a while, so I took the liberty of ordering for the both of you. Though I don't know why Andromeda chose this place. There's hardly any selection," Narcissa said.

"My sister seems to be quite forgetful today. I had already explained to you that Harry was visiting his friend Neville, who works at Hogwarts. Harry asked me to drop Teddy off there."

"We could have just as easily met in another place afterward. There is a new restaurant that recently opened up in Diagon Alley that I have been longing to visit," Narcissa said.

"And miss the chance of visiting your favorite Hogwarts haunt?" Andromeda replied.

Narcissa examined her fingernails. "Really, Andromeda, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you don't," Andromeda said.

"Mother, what is she talking about?" Malfoy asked. From the way he leaned in over the table, Hermione could tell he was more than a little interested.

Narcissa simply sat there, her mouth primly pursed.

Malfoy turned to Andromeda for answers, and the brown haired witch was more than willing to oblige. "Your mother seems to forget she had her first date here."

"Dad took you here?" Malfoy asked, disbelief clearly written across his face.

What a family of snobs. Sure, the Three Broomsticks wasn't exactly the height of fine cuisine, but Hermione thought it homey and warm.

"This was before your father," Narcissa said, frowning slightly at her sister.

Hermione noticed Andromeda smile, but the older witch remained quiet.

Malfoy's eyebrows had shot up to somewhere in the middle of his forehead. "You dated someone other than dad?"

"No one worth mentioning, dear. I can't even remember his name. Besides, I was not the first witch your father dated either."

Malfoy was in a state of shock, which Hermione found mildly amusing. As of late, he had always seemed so calm and collected. It was about time she saw him squirm for once.

Andromeda was tapping a slender finger against her chin. "Cissy, are you sure you never visited here again? I could have sworn I saw you and Lucius here quite often. If I'm not mistaken, you even had a certain spot reserved for you. Right over there." Andromeda was pointing to a nearby broom closet.

"Dad brought you here to snog?!" Malfoy said in a high voice, his face stuck between laughter and revulsion. Hermione herself was trying not to giggle. For some reason, she couldn't picture two people as stuck up as Lucius and Narcissa ever entering a broom closet, much less making out inside one.

"Oh, look. Here's the food!" Narcissa called out, her voice chirping like that of a wee bird.

The server placed their meals and drinks before them, effectively ending their interesting conversation. Hermione once again felt out of place and waited until they were all eating before she picked up her fork.

She was in the middle of chewing on a particularly large piece of roast when Andromeda turned to her. "How fortunate you decided to tag along on Harry's visit to Neville. I'm not sure Cissy and I could have convinced Draco to have lunch with us otherwise. Usually he can't get far enough away."

Well, that solved one mystery. Tonks had clearly inherited her knack for troublemaking from her mother.

Hermione could feel Narcissa's expectant gaze on her, and she couldn't keep from blushing. Why didn't Malfoy say anything? Correct their silly assumptions? Well, she knew why, but she expected some kind of reaction. After all, he was being portrayed as some besotted schoolboy; surely that had to damage his ego.

And apparently Andromeda wasn't finished. "Perhaps I should have you two babysit Teddy together."

Hermione kicked Malfoy under the table, but he only smiled at her.

"What a wonderful idea!" Narcissa exclaimed. "You know, Hermione, Teddy absolutely adores Draco. I think he realizes what an excellent father he'd make."

Malfoy still wasn't speaking, but at least now Hermione wasn't the only one blushing. Good, he deserved to suffer with her. And just to make sure that he was really accompanying her in misery, she kicked him again.

Having accomplished that, Hermione reached for her flagon of butterbeer. She was just taking a sip when something began moving up and down her calf. The warm liquid stuck in her throat, and she began to cough. Violently.

"Are you alright, dear?" Narcissa peered over at her with what looked like concern. But Hermione didn't get to scrutinize whether or not it was real; she was too busy trying not to squirm as Malfoy gently stroked her back. Hacking out her lungs as she was, Hermione was powerless to defend herself against the attack. If she weren't about to die, and if it weren't for the crowd of witnesses, she would have hexed him for playing footsies with her. And he must have known that, because he looked uncommonly smug.

Well played, Malfoy. Well played indeed.

When Hermione managed to stop coughing, she mumbled out, "I'm fine. Just went down the wrong pipe."

"You should drink more carefully, Hermione. I'd hate to see that happen again." Malfoy gently took her hand. With Andromeda and Narcissa watching like a pair of hawks, Hermione could only squeeze his hand back, hoping she was inflicting untold pain and damage. But the git only rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, completely unaffected. After a second or two, he finally get go.

He'd made his point. No more kicking of the legs. Hermione stared at her food sullenly.

As they continued eating, she noticed that neither she nor Malfoy really spoke. Proceedings were dominated by the older witches, who seemed more than willing to fill the empty spaces. It was just as well. Hermione was too busy concentrating on her food and ignoring the way Malfoy kept looking at her to truly participate.

As the meal came to a close, Malfoy asked, "Anyone care for dessert?"

Narcissa shook her head, smiling. "Are you sure, Draco? I picked up some of your favorite sweets from Honeydukes before coming here." She pulled out a bag and handed it to Malfoy, who once again had turned slightly pink.

Hermione had to chew the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "So tell me, M—Draco, which do you prefer: chocolate frogs or licorice wands?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Narcissa cut him off. "Neither. Draco's loved fizzing whizbees ever since he was a little boy. You cannot imagine how much he would vex me and his father, floating around the house, making us chase him for fear he would run into the walls or the chandeliers. You'd think that after he finally learned to fly a broom, it would have stopped. But no, he will not give up his whizbees for the world."

"I don't think Hermione is all that interested in learning about my childhood, mother."

"On the contrary, I find this fascinating. Please tell me more, Narcissa."

Just then one of the servers passed by, and Malfoy waved for his attention. "Check please." With a snap of the server's fingers, Malfoy was in possession of the bill. Standing up from his chair, he put the appropriate amount of money on the table. "Ladies?" he said, looking expectantly.

So typical of him. Ruin things just as she was beginning to have some fun.

Narcissa walked over to Malfoy, who offered her his arm and began leading her out of the inn. Hermione was just about to follow them when Andromeda called out, "We'll join you two in a second. I have to powder my nose."

The two nodded and left, leaving Hermione with Andromeda, who quite obviously did _not_ have to powder anything.

"So what do you think of him?" Andromeda asked.

"Of who?"

"You can't fool me, Hermione. I raised Nymphadora. You have nothing on her."

Fine. "He's tolerable."

"He's very good looking, isn't he?"

Hermione shrugged. "If you like that type."

Andromeda looked skeptical. "Yes, I suppose tall, trim, and handsome is an acquired taste."

Why was she pushing Malfoy on her? Hermione expected this from Narcissa, but certainly not Andromeda.

It seemed like the older witch was reading her mind. "You know, I didn't like Ted when I first knew him either. You'd be surprised what can happen when you give a person another chance."

"Is that why you're spending time with Narcissa?" Hermione asked in a voice so quiet it was nearly swallowed up by the din of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione hadn't really meant to pry, but she had always wondered how and why Andromeda had welcomed Narcissa back. Too bad she had chosen to voice it in such a conversation-inducing atmosphere. No doubt it was the ideal atmosphere for a heart-to-heart chat such as this. Hermione peered through her eyelashes at Andromeda, trying not to cringe.

Andromeda immediately sobered, but her eyes were not unkind. "I know she can be a snob, and she is extremely vain, but…" Andromeda paused, swallowing. "I think having almost lost her son and husband made her realize how important family is. More than status, more than politics, more than money. We now understand each other, and she has been a great comfort to me these last couple of years. Besides, she's my baby sister, and I want what's best for her."

Seeing Andromeda on the verge of tears almost set the waterworks off in Hermione. She grabbed the older woman's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Andromeda blinked, straightening her shoulders. No doubt her aristocratic upbringing was kicking in. Too bad Hermione didn't have an off switch.

Returning to the conversation at hand, Andromeda said, "As for Draco, I'm not saying you should date him, at least not yet, but I think he could use some friends his own age."

"He already has some. I've seen him hanging out with Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini."

Andromeda wrinkled her nose, adopting what Hermione had heretofore considered Narcissa's trademark look. Apparently, it was a Black family trait. "Allow me to clarify. Draco needs a good influence in his life, and there is no other girl I know with her head as firmly placed on her shoulders as you. Draco reminds me a lot of Narcissa. At base, he's extremely devoted and loyal to his family. The raw material is there to work with, and you're honest and stubborn enough to cut through all his selfishness and pride."

"I don't know," Hermione hedged. Much as she wanted to help Andromeda, she already had enough responsibility in her life. She didn't need to add babysitting Malfoy to the list.

"Draco's a bright boy. Too bright for the likes of Pansy and Goyle, that's for certain. He needs to be challenged, and he needs to learn how to care about people other than his mother and father. He's on his way with Teddy and me, but like I said, he needs someone his own age. Plus I think he fancies you."

Does not! He might not be quite the bastard he used to be, but Malfoy was still a user. Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't say that. Andromeda seemed to really like Draco, and Hermione didn't have the heart to take that away from her. And if Andromeda could give Narcissa another chance…

Darn it! Why didn't she have an off switch?!

Instead of contradicting the older witch, Hermione looked down at the ground. "Alright," she finally conceded. "I guess I'll try to be friends with him."

"I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

Hmmph. We'll see about that.

"We should probably head out; Narcissa can get grumpy when she's forced to wait too long," Andromeda said. "Been like that ever since she was a baby."

When the two ladies walked out of the Three Broomsticks, they found Narcissa grooming her son. He stood there as she straightened the collar of his robe and lectured him about getting his hair trimmed, patiently enduring it. When he saw them, he cleared his throat.

"Oh, there you are," Narcissa said, putting her hands down. "I hope you had a good time powdering your noses."

It was clear Narcissa knew that there had been no powdering of noses. Perhaps Hermione had underestimated her. Suddenly remembering how the prettiest Malfoy had fooled Voldemort into thinking Harry was dead, Hermione found herself grudgingly offering Narcissa some belated respect.

"I think it went quite well," said Andromeda. At this, Narcissa graced those around her with a beatific smile. It was ridiculous how beautiful she could look, though Hermione supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. After all, every Black she had known had striking good looks. Even Bellatrix with her face wasted by Azkaban and madness had looked better than most of the women Hermione knew.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," Narcissa said. "Preferably someplace a bit nicer."

Hermione wasn't sure, but she could have sworn Andromeda rolled her eyes.

Turning to her sister, Narcissa said, "I should probably be going. Lucius is waiting for me."

"Tell him I say hello," Andromeda replied.

Narcissa nodded her head. "Draco?"

"I'll meet you there in a bit. I need to walk Hermione back to Hogwarts."

Everyone said their goodbyes, and then the older witches apparated away.

As soon as they were gone, Malfoy and she began walking towards Hogwarts. They hadn't even taken one step, when he said, "You never answered my question."

"No, Malfoy, I will not date you."

"Even though you don't care about public opinion?"

"Nope."

"Even though you enjoy spending time with me?"

"I do not en—" Hermione stopped and started again. "No."

"Even though you've technically already been on a date with me, and even met my mother?"

"That wasn't a date; it was a meeting amongst…" Oh Merlin, she was going to say it. "Friends. The answer is still no."

Draco paused, seeming to consider something. "Hermione, why do you work for the ministry?"

Well, that came out of nowhere. "Want to accomplish some good, I guess." That was severely understating it, but Hermione refused to bare her heart and soul and dreams to someone who'd most likely laugh at them.

"That's what I thought. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but what better way could there be for accomplishing good than to give the people hope that in this post-Voldemort world former enemies can truly come together despite past differences? That they can even, dare I say it, fall in love?"

"Absolutely not! I refuse to have people building their hopes on something that is false. Hope only works because there is some truth or basis behind it. I'm not going to deceive the public just to make you and your family look better." Even after venting, she could still feel the steam shooting out her ears.

Malfoy shrugged, completely unaffected by her furor. He was even smirking. "Just thought I'd ask."

Hermione stamped her foot, then stamped her foot again for letting him get to her. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she managed to calm down. "Alright, Malfoy. It's my turn to ask some questions. And keep in mind, this changes nothing."

"Fair enough."

"Honestly, why do you think I would ever agree to this? You constantly insult me, treat me like I'm dirt, oh wait, mud, and then you expect me to help you?"

"I haven't called you that in years."

"Fine. What makes you think I want to help the family that allowed me to be tortured?"

To his credit, he winced slightly. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't remember that bit."

Hermione lifted her head to the heavens, eyes almost bugging out of her skull. "Good grief, Malfoy. I still have nightmares about it. Do you really think I'd forget?"

"No."

Hermione was about to contradict him, but realized that for once he wasn't trying to upset or trick her. She didn't know how to respond. The two kept walking, not looking at each other.

The leaves kept on rustling, birds continued singing, and the sun hadn't stopped shining, but Hermione was oblivious to everything but the awkwardness that had settled between Draco and her.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way. About the name-calling and the torture…and being a tremendous git."

Hermione suddenly felt very tired. Malfoy had finally apologized to her, and miracle of miracles, had actually meant it. It wasn't that his words made the past better. They didn't take it away. What they did, however, was deflate her anger, and with it her energy. She hadn't realized how strongly she had been holding on to it, how much she had drawn from it when dealing with him. Hermione wanted nothing more than to take a nice long nap. Unfortunately, the conversation wasn't finished.

In a more subdued tone, she said, "It would never work. All we do is fight."

"So do you and Weasley. And you and Potter."

"That's different. They actually like me."

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't _dislike_ you."

It was a slight improvement, considering he seemed to hold most people in contempt.

"And it's not like I'm proposing marriage. It would be a few dates."

Hermione stopped walking, staring at him earnestly. "I don't understand you."

"Why's that?"

"You have absolutely no problem manipulating people for your own benefit."

Malfoy shrugged. "That's why I was sorted into Slytherin. And I wouldn't be the only one benefiting. You'd have fun. The public would get a laugh. We've already gone over ad nauseum what this would mean for my family. And no one would get hurt, which should placate your Gryffindor sensibilities."

"It's not enough. We'd be fighting constantly; it wouldn't even be believable."

"Haven't you ever heard of a love-hate relationship?"

Hermione blew a raspberry, drawing an odd look from Malfoy. "That's in the books and the movies, not real life. We'd kill each other in a day."

"I've been able to suppress my homicidal tendencies thus far. I think I could manage."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Don't you get it?! I'm not like you. I can't just bury my emotions like that. I didn't grow up with things like arranged marriages. I'm not used to seeing people sublimate their feelings due to some pre-arranged contract."

"What makes you think I am?"

"Well, your parents." Obviously.

Malfoy seemed to bristle at the insinuation, though he didn't say anything for a time. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, dangerous. "Careful, Hermione." It kind of scared her. But then things were back to normal, words spoken with his typical drawl. "Their marriage wasn't arranged, from birth or anything else. My dad chose to marry my mum, and she chose him."

"Oh…Well, I'm sorry for assuming."

Malfoy continued, ignoring her apology. "Any other questions?"

Hermione blinked, trying to recover from Malfoy's emotional whiplash. "Um, yes." And she thought insulting his parents' marriage had been awkward. Reminding herself of her conversation with Andromeda, Hermione said, "Actually, not a question, but I was thinking, even though I don't want to have some fake relationship with you, I don't think I'd be opposed to us having a real relationship."

Did she really just say that?!

Hermione closed her eyes. Brightest witch of her generation with the conversational skills of a mountain troll. "Let me try that again…I don't like you, and I don't want to date you or anything like that. But I might have lied earlier...about saying that I didn't enjoy myself around you."

She opened one of her eyes, squinting to see how Malfoy was taking this. "No surprise there. Continue."

Hermione let out a relieved breath. "Maybe being around you isn't complete and utter torture…when you're not intentionally trying to drive me up the wall."

"Be honest, Hermione, would you feel comfortable around me if I didn't act like a prat?"

He was doing it again. Winding her up. "I don't know," she said, testily. "I've never seen you act differently."

Malfoy laughed. "Here's the answer. No. You wouldn't."

"I don't think you're in any positi—"

Without warning, Malfoy raised his hand to her hair. Afraid that he would strike her, she ducked down. Like a spaz. No wonder he was looking at her as if she had sprouted a second head. From her bellybutton.

"You OK there, Hermione?"

She stood to her full height, determined not to feel stupid. "Quite."

He raised his hand again. Her neck became stiff, face frozen, but she refused to move. Her eyes, though, followed the movement of his hand. "What are you doing?"

"You've something in your hair. Looks like clover. Probably from when you were on the grass."

He was taking an awful long time to remove what ended up being a very tiny green thing.

He _finally _drew his hand back, twisting the shamrock in his long fingers. "Huh?"

"What?" she said, not really sure if she wanted to know.

"Has four leaves." Malfoy smiled, then tossed the piece of green onto the ground. "What was it you were saying?"

Hermione didn't remember.

"Something about feeling comfortable around me when I was being nice to you," he prompted. She still said nothing. "Well, when you think of it, I'm sure you'll let me know," he said.

It's like someone had cast a Silencio on her.

Malfoy shook his head, chucking softly. "Face it, Hermione. You like it when I give you a hard time. That way you don't have to feel guilty when you say mean things to me."

"That's not true."

"Course it is."

"You expect me to believe you pick fights with me, not because you're an absolute cretin, but because you're trying to set me at ease? Do you even listen to yourself?" She started laughing, then quickly slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she was doing. "That's absolute rubbish."

"I call them as I see them."

They were now at the castle doors, though standing to the side, so as not to attract any attention from the occasional student that walked by. If Hermione had been asked, it couldn't have come at a better time. She'd had enough. It was time to go. "Do you want to be friends with me or not?"

"I suppose that could work."

She could see the wheels turning in his head, no doubt thinking about how he could milk this for all it was worth. It was best time she set some ground rules.

"Before you get too far in your devious machinations, there are some conditions you have to agree to."

Malfoy leaned back against the near wall. "Do all your friendships have conditions?"

"No, but I've never been friends with anyone like you before."

"Why thank you."

"That's not a compliment."

"Sounds like one to me. Anyway, your conditions?"

"Right. You must keep your Slytherin tendencies in check. This is supposed to be a genuine attempt at friendship, not you using me to try to look better. If I get the feeling that's what you're doing, this is over."

"I can't help what the Daily Prophet prints if they see us hanging out with each other."

"That's not what I meant. I'm perfectly alright with people assuming that we're a couple if we are simply spending time with each other. I expect most people to jump to false conclusions and be stupid in general. But I don't want you giving them reason to think that there is actually something between us. No vague comments to the press. No ambiguous photos with me. And no upsetting Ron or Harry with insinuations about things that aren't even happening."

"I don't know. That's a tall order."

"Take it or leave it."

"For a friend, you sure are demanding."

"Alright, how would you like to hang out next Saturday. Say around two?"

"Make it three."

Always so bloody difficulty. "Alright, three."

"I'll check with my assistant to see if I'm available and owl you when I know."

Why had she agreed to this whole friendship thing again?

Oh right. Andromeda. It was all for Andromeda.

OK, time to go. "Well, as fun as it's been, I'm sure the boys are wondering what you've done with me. If I don't appear soon, they're liable to come after you with pitchforks," Hermione said.

"What?"

"Muggle reference. Never mind."

She turned to the entrance of the castle.

"You know, Hermione, there is one thing you haven't considered."

He was an irritating ponce? No, got that.

He was a Slytherin and therefore manipulative and slimy? That she knew.

He'd stop at nothing to infuriate her, and laugh as if it were some joke? Check.

He was driving her nuts by incessantly and intentionally calling her Hermione? Big Fat X.

Nope, she'd covered all the bases.

But just to humor him... "Alright, Malfoy, what did I miss?"

"You're overlooking the possibility that I'm allowing you to believe I want to spend time with you to look good, because if you knew that I actually liked you, you'd become permanently unhinged and never let me anywhere near you again."

He had this look on his face. She couldn't describe it, but suddenly her stomach was in her throat. No! There was no way he could possibly mean that.

Then the look was gone, morphed into that stupid smirk of his. "You should see your face. You look like you've just kissed a blast-ended skrewt."

Hermione exhaled, ready to hit him. "Malfoy, if y--" He caught her hand before she could deliver the blow.

"If we're to be friends, it's Draco. Consider it one of _my _conditions."

Hermione tore her arm away. "Whatever. I need to go."

Pushing past him, she entered the castle. The heavy door was almost shut when she heard him call out after her, "See you next week, Hermione."

When the door was finally shut, she leaned on it, banging the back of her head on the hard wood.

What had she gotten herself into?

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please Review!**

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Anonymous Review Replies:

Lady Sol- No worries. Thanks for all your kind words. I'm glad you think my take is creative, and that you're liking the way I'm portraying the characters. I'm using this as a warm up for a future DMHG story I've been thinking about. It will be totally different, but I just needed to see if I could even characterize them semi-decently. Thanks for reviewing!

Anon- I actually used to like the idea of Harry with Hermione, and then one day it struck me…a redeemed Draco would be so much more entertaining with Hermione. Plus I really think he could challenge her like Ron and Harry couldn't. But that's just my opinion. I'm just glad reading this doesn't make you wretch! =D As for Lucius/Narcissa. I don't know when I'll continue that. I do have ideas for two other chapters. One where they find out she's pregnant and another before they even started dating. I don't know if I'll get to it, but you never know. Thanks for reviewing. Hope you are well!


	7. The Ersatz Elevator

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Another two parter. Also, I went back and fixed the previous chapters, because misspellings and poor grammar are embarrassing.

And about London. I don't really know where the Ministry/Malfoy Industries would be located, so I picked a place. And I ended up with the Serpentine, before it even occurred to me that it was kind of a play on words on Draco/Slytherin. How felicitous! And thank you googlemaps and wikipedia for all your help.

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**Unfortunate Event Six:  
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**The Ersatz Elevator**

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Hermione was navigating the halls of the Ministry, heading straight back to her office. Nose stuck in one of her files, she dutifully ignored the bitter faces and mean-spirited whispers of her coworkers. She had been right in predicting the jealous backlash for getting a new office and promotion.

She liked to think she was likable enough. No one else in the Ministry seemed to have a problem with her, just the people in her department. Not that she should care. She was too mature to worry about such petty office politics. After all, she worked just as hard, if not harder than any of them. And if they disliked her without even giving her a chance, then she didn't really want to be friends with them anyway. Still, as often as she repeated this to herself, she hated being disliked and excluded. It was like the beginning of Hogwarts all over again.

Well, at least her office was nice. Quickening her pace, she made a beeline for her little sanctuary. Actually, it was quite spacious and thanks to a recent charm, alternated between smelling like new parchment, falling rain, freshly baked cookies, and hot chocolate. Turning the corner, she could see it, shining like a beacon of light at the end of the dark tunnel that was the Ministry's hallway.

Only sixty more feet.

Fifty.

Forty.

Thir—

"Miss Granger!"

Goodbye, Happy Place. Hello, office of Philip Stodge, slowest man in England and head of accounting for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Having already passed Stodge's office, Hermione backpedaled, peering just around the door frame. Perhaps he just wanted to pass on a short message. Please, let it be short.

"Yes, Philip?"

"Miss Granger, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that…" He trailed off, seemingly looking for something.

No longer able to avoid entering his office, Hermione dragged herself through the door.

"Ah ha, here it is!" The slightly balding man stared through the frames of his green glasses, which were precariously perched at the end of his thin, long nose. In his hands he now clutched a five page document, which if the way he was blinking at it, he did not understand.

Hermione inwardly died. Just a little. This was going to take longer than she thought.

Forcing herself not to tap her foot, she leaned against the front of his desk, waiting.

"Alright, let's see… It seems Draco Malfoy of one Malfoy Industries owes our department…"

He raised his finger to his mouth, lightly wetting it before using it to turn the page.

"…One hundred galleons for fines incurred due to activity off the coast of India…"

Hermione waited as Stodge performed his page-turning ritual once again. Really! It was like wading through molasses.

"…which has now been increased to two hundred galleons due to the fact that the collection date has passed…"

Hermione smiled, remembering Malfoy's generous "donation" to the house elves. Normally, she would have felt guilty, but it wasn't like he was hurting for money. The Ministry had let the Malfoy family keep their fortune. In fact, the only thing they had done was put Lucius under house arrest for three years, with the provision that he could not practice magic until he was free.

Stodge was slow, but she didn't think it had touched his mental faculties. She was beginning to reconsider. Trying to keep the impatience from seeping into her voice, she said, "Just owl Malfoy and tell him to come pay his fines. Simple as." Hermione said.

"If you'd give me leave to speak, Miss Granger, I would have gotten to that point. I have indeed owled Mr. Malfoy. On numerous occasions. If you like, I could show you the correspondence."

"No, thank you, Philip. That won't be necessary. Please just summarize them in your own words."

He looked ready to search for the letters, but thankfully he decided not to dig after them and read them one by one. "As it turns out, Mr. Malfoy refuses to come to the Ministry. He claims that he has already paid the fines and wishes to speak with a representative from our department about the handling of said fines."

"Isn't Felicia in charge of collections?"

"Yes, and I informed Mr. Malfoy of this, but he insisted he would only meet with you. In person. At Malfoy Industries."

"You have got to be joking!"

"This is no joke. I'm sorry, Miss Granger." His mouth was fixed in a tight smile.

He wasn't sorry. Not sorry at all. Sadistic little sloth!

"Normally, we do not comply with these kinds of demands, but I've got orders from Mr. Scholes." Stodge leaned across his desk, winking conspiratorially. And because he seemed to think she had missed it the first time, he did it again. "Because of your special…understanding with Mr. Malfoy, Scholes thinks you can convince him to pay up."

Bloody.

Hell.

People were still talking about her and Malfoy?!

Hermione was a professional. She would not explode in Stodge's Office, nor would she give the office gossips fodder with which to roast her.

Pasting a smile on her face, Hermione said, "Thank you, Philip. I'll see what I can do."

"Have a good day, Miss Granger."

"You too." Waving her fingers, Hermione calmly strode out and walked the remaining thirty feet to her office without further incident.

Closing the door gently behind her, she inhaled the smell of summer storms and spring showers, absorbing its soothing affect. Now seated at her desk, she pulled out her favorite quill pen and aligned it perfectly with the top of the blank piece of parchment she had conjured. Pressing her palms down on either side of her writing materials, she counted to sixty before composing her letter.

"Malfoy,

You twitchy little ferret! Come down to the Ministry and pay your own damn fines!

Most uncordially,

Granger"

Ahhh. Much better.

After she attached the letter to an owl, she sent it on its way.

Hermione reclined back in her seat, kicking her feet up on the desk, now breathing in the scent of her mother's oatmeal raisin cookies. She knew he'd send something back, but until then she was going to nap.

Hermione had nearly nodded off when a tapping at her door jolted her wide awake.

Getting up, she opened it and waited for the owl to perch. Detaching the missive from its leg and giving it a treat, Hermione sent the owl back from whence it came.

Unrolling the scroll, she read Malfoy's response.

"Miss Granger,

I have been instructed to inform you that Mr. Malfoy is currently not receiving any owls. If you wish to speak with him, you must visit him in his offices at Malfoy Industries. He will be in for the next hour.

Respectfully Yours,

Sharon Vernus

Secretary of Draco B. Malfoy"

Hermione hadn't expected anything different. She knew it would end with her going to Malfoy's office; she just wrote her own letter to act out her own frustrations. It seemed Malfoy was wonderful for releasing her stress. Of course, he also seemed to be the cause of it most of the time (whether intentionally or unintentionally), but that was neither here nor there. For now, he had given her an excuse to escape the Ministry for an hour or two.

The headquarters for Malfoy Industries were located in the heart of London, magically hidden from the muggles passing by. It would be too crowded to apparate there, and she doubted there was a floo connection. That settled it. She would walk the two miles it would take to get there.

Grabbing her scarf, Hermione left the office, taking the stairs to the Atrium that led to the topside of London. The chill of fall had been making itself known as of late, and she tied the red and gold wrap around her neck just before exiting. The wind was more brisk than biting, and it nipped at her cheeks, which she knew were turning splotchy. Passing Buckingham Palace and the congregation of tourists, she turned on Carriage Hill and eventually Carriage Drive, stopping only at the edge of Hyde Park's famous body of water, The Serpentine.

Coincidence? Who really knew anymore?

Hermione stared up at an ancient building that seemed to shimmer in and out of existence. No one seemed to notice. Not the tourists or the Londoners bustling about. Not even the birds flying overhead. How many times had she passed by as a little girl, probably throwing pebbles or pieces of bread in the waters right beside this enormous edifice?

The building was much older than the body of water, which Hermione knew had been made in the early 1700s. The steps of the front entrance were right at the edge of the water, appearing more solid as she drew close. Apparently, it was under the same spells as number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and if she was not mistaken, many more.

Like all things Malfoy, the building was ostentatious. And yet, it had a severe beauty all its own. It was designed in the Gothic style. Gargoyles lined the roof, pacing back and forth, occasionally flapping their wings or making faces at the passersby. She caught one looking at her and waved; it promptly flew off, settling somewhere on the far side of the building, out of sight. Statues of all the deceased Malfoy men were carved into the walls, sneering down at her as she approached. They gave the occasional taunt or insult about her "low" birth, but she wouldn't dignify them with a response. Well, she did stick her tongue out at them, but only for a second.

Without further ado, Hermione knocked on the door. Again, no one seemed to notice the strange occurrence of her standing on water, pounding on what must look like air. Perhaps she'd ask Malfoy about the concealment spells surrounding the place.

The door opened with a creak, and she stepped in. It closed behind her. If the outside looked ancient, the interior seemed as if it had been completed yesterday. A very pretty, very tall witch greeted her, looking resplendent in bright (and tight) green robes. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones and emerald colored eyes. Standing beside her, Hermione felt short, plain, and dowdy. Unconsciously, she started patting down her hair.

"Hello, I'm Sharon," the witch said.

Leave it to Malfoy to employ a supermodel as his secretary.

"You're Miss Granger, I presume?"

Hermione nodded her head.

"Please, follow me."

They entered a lift, both facing its door. The equivalent of wizarding elevator music was humming in the air. Hermione concentrated on it rather than the confined space. She wasn't too big a fan of elevators, which was unfortunate because they were the primary means of conveyance around the Ministry. When they weren't broken, that was.

At the top floor, the door opened and Sharon ushered her into Malfoy's office.

"Draco, Miss Granger is here."

He didn't look up, just kept scribbling on a piece of parchment.

Hermione glanced over at the witch, who was clearly checking him out. Hermione turned her head to side, rolling her eyes. What was it with girls falling head over heels for him? Sure, he wasn't ugly, but he wasn't exactly a nice guy either.

"Thank you, Sharon. That will be all." Malfoy waved the secretary away, still not looking at her. He was focused on someone else, namely short, plain, and dowdy.

"Hello, Hermione. To what do I owe this visit?"

"I think you know."

Sharon brushed by Hermione, with a quiet "Harrumph" and a cold stare before disappearing behind the lift's door.

Whatever.

Hermione held out her palm. "Now hand over the money," she said.

"And here I thought I'd sent the gold digger away. Guess not." Malfoy waved toward the edge of his desk, where she noticed four stacks of galleons were neatly piled. "There you go."

"You drag me all the way down here, and that's it? No, get down on your knees and beg? Or say that Slytherin is the best house and Gryffindor is the worst? Or have me make fun of Harry and Ron?"

"Would you like to do those things?"

Hermione swiped the coins, pocketing them in a coin purse. "Too late now. Should have said something sooner."

"I trust that this time they will make it into the correct hands. No more of these silly donations to the house elf liberation fund?"

This time she wasn't going to take the bait. "That's too predictable. I'll think of something else. Later on, when you least expect it."

"Looks like I'm finally rubbing off on you. What will Potter and Weasley think?"

"I don't need lessons or permission from the likes of you three to cause trouble. In fact, back in the day, I created my fair share of mischief. And all by myself I'll have you know."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but sneaking out past curfew to use the library doesn't count."

"Believe what you want. You're only making it easier by underestimating me."

Unwrapping the scarf from her neck, she sank down in the chair in front of his desk, watching as he leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Bad day at work?" he asked.

How did he know?

"Just the usual. I needed a break. Otherwise, there was no way I would be even be down here."

"I know."

"Then what was the point of the whole 'I'll only speak with Granger' rigmarole?"

"Just wanted to see you."

"Ha. Ha. No, really?"

"Isn't that what friends do? Hang out with each other?"

"Yes," she said very slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. "But not during work hours. Besides, we're seeing each other this weekend."

"I know, but my day's been a bit drab. I needed the entertainment."

Hermione stood to her feet. "Well, now that I have the money, I should probably leave. I've already been gone an hour, and I have to walk back again."

"You do realize there is a perfectly good floo connection between my office and the Ministry," he said, and rather condescendingly in her opinion.

Well, how was she supposed to know if he didn't tell her?

"No, I did _not_ realize there was a perfectly good floo connection between your office and the ministry." Her face felt tight and pinched, her nose scrunched in irritation as she flung his words back at him.

"Hermione, you shouldn't do that. It ruins your face. As for the floo connection, you should have asked."

"It doesn't matter. I'd rather walk. And now I'm going to leave before this descends into chaos. I'll see you this Saturday."

Draco got up from his chair. "Where?"

"I don't know." Hermione looked down her front, making sure her scarf lay flat against her chest. "I've been wanting to visit The British Museum again and see the Parthenon Marbles. Maybe there?"

"No, no muggle places."

She had forgotten that Malfoy needed to take baby steps.

"Fine. You pick."

"Your flat."

"I don't know…" The whole place would probably burn down the second he walked through the door.

"In exchange, I'll graciously accompany you to your museum the next time we go out."

He was manipulating her, believing she'd think interacting with muggles was a sign of progress and immense growth. Which it kind of would be, even if it was against his will and personal inclinations. And how bad could Malfoy in her apartment really be? She'd make sure Harry and Ron were there, or that they at least stopped by at some point to check that they hadn't hexed each other to death.

"Alright, but I really should be going now." Hermione scooted closer to the elevator.

Picking up his coat, Malfoy said, "I'll walk you back. It's about time I left anyway."

"It's only three in the afternoon."

"One of the perks of being the boss."

Yeah, that and secretaries that looked like Sharon.

Once the elevator door closed behind them, Hermione stared straight ahead, while Malfoy stared at her. Fine, let him look. She raised her chin, unashamed of her windswept hair and ruddy face. At least she didn't spend hours with creams and potions, trying to perfect her skin and hair. Silly peacock.

Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on that thing (she didn't know what it was called) that showed what floor they were passing, Hermione began to relax as they drew closer to the ground floor.

And then, the elevator stopped.

Not on the first floor, but somewhere between levels four and three if the dial (was that what it was called?) was to be believed.

Panic catching in her chest, Hermione turned on Malfoy.

"What did you do?!"

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.

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For anonymous reviewer person Anon_- _**if you are still reading...I promise there will be Lucius/Narcissa stuff in this story. Maybe not a whole lot, but I have something very nice planned for them.

Avanell- Ciao! Yeah! I'm glad you liked the inclusion of Andromeda and Narcissa. They will be back, but in cameos. And I'm sure there will be more serious discussions. A relationship can't be insults and misunderstandings all the time. :D Thanks for reviewing!


	8. The Ersatz Elevator, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Um, this chapter is very long, and perhaps runs out of steam at the end. I apologize, but hope you still enjoy it.

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**Unfortunate Event Six:**

**The Ersatz Elevator, Part Two

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**

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow, giving Hermione a look of incredulity. "What did _I _do? Why is it that when something goes wrong, it must be my fault?"

"Because it just is. Stuff like this never happens to me unless I'm with you. Now tell me. What. Did. You. Do?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and for a second Hermione wondered if she had been too quick to blame. Maybe he hadn't done anything and this had been a total fluke.

Malfoy looked away, examining his fingernails. "I may have insulted a troll the other day."

Ha! She knew it! Of course he was to blame. She should never have doubted herself.

Still, it was an odd answer.

"Why would that matter?" she asked.

"Because they control the elevators."

"They're not run by magic?"

"I could have sworn I just said trolls operated the elevators. Did I imagine that?"

Hermione was in no mood for Malfoy's sarcasm. Finger pointing in his face, she growled, "What do you mean they're in charge of the elevators?"

"Well you see, Hermione, when this building was constructed back in the 1200s by my great-great-great-great-great-gr—"

Hermione prodded his chest, gritting her teeth. "Get on with it."

"Have I mentioned how utterly charming you are when you're upset? There's this little vein that appears between your brows, right along here." He lifted his finger to show her, but Hermione smacked it away before he could touch her.

Malfoy sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, "Sometimes, I wonder why I even put up with you."

"Just finish the story!"

"Very well, but only because I'm such a good friend."

Hermione clenched her hands into fist, glaring at him. Then she opened her mouth, ready to let loose a river of insults.

"You infuri—"

Malfoy cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Are you going to allow me to tell you the story or not?"

She closed her mouth, pressing her lips together so tightly they turned white.

"That's what I thought. Now when Maximilian Malfoy had this built, he imported five trolls from Scandinavia to operate the elevators, and it's been tradition ever since." Pointing his finger to the ground, he twirled it in a circular motion as he continued speaking, "They push this turnstile-like device, kind of like a stone wheel on its side with sticks coming out of it."

"It's called a capstan," Hermione interrupted, ignoring Malfoy's annoyed glance.

"Well, this _capstan_ is attached to the elevator cables. Spin it clockwise, the elevator goes up; counterclockwise, it goes down. There are three of them, and each one is manned by a separate troll. If we were in my office, I could show you the set up. I've got a viewing window through one of my portraits."

He was trying to wind her up; she was sure of it. Lifting her chin, she demanded, "How come I didn't see it, then?"

"It wasn't activated. Why would I want to spend the whole day looking at those hideous beasts? It's bad enough I have to worry about running into them when I'm walking about the building."

"Why have trolls do something mechanically when a simple spell could accomplish the same thing?"

"Because nothing says opulence quite like elevator-operating trolls."

"Well, if they're wandering all over the building, I would have seen one, and I didn't."

"Fancy that. Though it might be because you've only been on the two floors where they are not allowed to be seen. The main lobby and my office are off limits. Wouldn't want guests and potential investors to be scared away with those frightful faces," Malfoy shuddered, " and you know how I feel about ugly things."

"Merlin forbid your face ever got disfigured. I doubt you'd be able to withstand the loss of preening before your mirror."

Malfoy leaned against the lift's side, smiling over at her. "Why, Hermione, dost my ears deceive me, or did you just say I'm handsome?"

Hermione's stomach sank. She had, hadn't she? It didn't matter that she would rather die than admit it. The words had already left her mouth. They were now on permanent record. She could never take them back, and Malfoy would never let her live them down.

Hermione felt her cheeks start to burn, but she refused to look away. Trying to seem as unbothered as possible, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's not like it's some big secret. Anyone with eyes would come to the same conclusion."

"True, but I wasn't aware you even noticed such things."

"Oh, shut up. If your ego bloats anymore, there won't be any room left for me in the lift."

Ignoring her slight against his person, Malfoy said, "I can see the Daily Prophet headlines now…" He waved his hands in the air, as if showcasing a flashing marquee, "Draco Malfoy helps Hermione Granger Realize She's a Woman."

Hermione started laughing, but not because she thought him funny. "You really think I've gone my whole life without noticing that people of the opposite sex can be attractive until this moment? Wow, you are just…unbelievable. I have never met anyone so full of himself."

"Did you really expect to? After all, there's only one of me in existence. You should be grateful. Imagine if you had grew up in the Americas, or had been born a few years earlier or later, we might never have met, and then your feminine sensibilities would never have awakened."

"I've noticed plenty of guys."

"Really? Who else?"

"No. My love life is off limits."

Malfoy snorted. "What _love_ life?"

For some reason, that kind of stung. It effectively burst the tiny bubble Hermione thought would protect her from Malfoy.

Suddenly the elevator seemed much smaller, and the reality of the situation came crashing in. She was stuck in a lift with Malfoy. Malfoy, the only person who, without her telling him, had found a way of sniffing out every one of her insecurities. The very insecurities she had hoped to eradicate by burying under accomplishment after accomplishment and a mountain of logic and good sense. And now that he had found the last one, she was wholly convinced he would pick and poke and prod at it until she bled, just as he had before.

She felt so exposed. Without any protection, all his old insults came back to bruise and cut her.

Undeserving, Unworthy Mudblood. Unattractive, Bucktoothed, Bushy-haired Swot. Unpopular. Unlikable…Unlovable.

There was no escape. Hermione's mouth dropped open, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Could hardly breathe.

At least he hadn't seemed to notice.

"That's right, I forgot about your schoolgirl infatuation with Weasel. What happened to him anyway? You drive him away?"

"Of course not. He—"

She stopped. Why was she telling Malfoy this? He'd just use it against her.

"Come now. I thought friends shared things with each other."

She turned from him, refusing to let him see the way her eyes were being to swell with tears. "Yeah, well friends don't intentionally try to hurt each other either."

Hermione stood there, shoulders hunched over protectively about her chest, just waiting for him to taunt her back. But nothing happened. The elevator was silent, the quiet only broken by her uneven breathing.

Finally, he spoke. She almost couldn't hear him. "You don't still like him do you?" he asked.

"No!"

Hermione began pacing the floor of the elevator, trying to get away from him. But there wasn't much space. Oh, Merlin, there wasn't enough space! She ripped off her scarf, which felt as if it were choking her.

"Then why are you so upset?" he asked.

"I'm not upset!"

"Why won't you look at me then?"

"Maybe I just don't want to. Maybe I'm tired and my head hurts and I'm in a bad mood and I have hateful coworkers that I can't stand and I'm frightened of elevators and any second this contraption of death may plummet to the ground floor and the last person I'll ever speak to is a man who goes around insulting any person who doesn't live up to his impossibly high standards, which amounts to every person that has ever lived!" Hermione clamped her mouth shut. The words had just bubbled out, and now the ones that hadn't escaped were burning her from the inside out.

But Malfoy didn't seem to care about her tirade. "Did he hurt you, Hermione?"

"No."

Why wouldn't he just let it drop?!

"You can tell me if he did. I don't care if it's something as small as him giving you a parchment-cut. Just say the word, and I'll beat him to a pulp."

While some (twisted) person might have viewed Malfoy's zeal as kindness and concern, she knew better. He was always looking for an excuse to make Ron look bad. Just like in school.

"He didn't hurt me," she said, defending her friend.

Things seemed to settle down, but then she felt the cable car shake as Malfoy pounded the wall with his fist. "He's gay, isn't he?! I knew it! I just knew it! Wait till I tell Zabini and Goyle. They'll have a field day with that." But Malfoy's triumph was extremely short-lived. Hermione watched as an unmistakable tremor wracked his body, and in a strangled voice, he said, "He really does want my babies, doesn't he?"

"Ron's not gay, you idiot!" Hermione sank to the ground, eyes closed, resting her head against the wall. "Now just…just leave me alone."

He slid down next to her, his knee touching hers. Once again invading her personal space. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"So if Weasley didn't hurt you…"

"Please stop," she pleaded.

"Then…was it me?"

She couldn't answer that.

He shifted beside her, and she could feel his gaze on her even with her eyes closed. She wished she could hide.

"Geez, Hermione. I say stupid things all the time, and you never react this way. Even at Hogwarts, it would always be Potter and Weasley who always got so worked up. You always had the good sense to ignore me."

She opened her eyes, fixing them firmly on the floor. "That's not true. You words meant an awful lot to me. I may now have shown it on the outside, but when you taunted me for having no friends, it hurt. When you called me Mudblood, it hurt. When you made fun of my frizzy hair and beaver teeth, it hurt." Hermione took a deep breath. "And when you say that I drove Ron away, it hurts."

"I don't know what happened with you and Weasley, but all that other stuff…Merlin, Hermione, you know none of that was true. Those were just the words of a spoiled, scared, and stupid little boy. You shouldn't let them affect you. You're much too smart for that."

Hermione wiped at a tear that was threatening to spill over. "Why does everybody think that? Just because they think I'm a brilliant witch doesn't mean that I'm unaffected by the stupid things people say. Like I'm some kind of bloody…robot. I have feelings, you know? I'm not just my brain."

"Of course you're not."

"I have a heart too," she said, trying not to sniffle, but not succeeding. It sounded pitiful to her ears, and she waited for Malfoy to make fun of her.

"I know."

Shocked, she asked, "You do?"

"Yes, I do."

Hermione finally looked at him, searching for even an ounce of sarcasm. The only thing she found was him holding out a handkerchief to her.

She took it, then turned away, delicately dabbing her nose and eyes. "Thank you."

"So, are you OK now?

Hermione searched inside herself, trying to find the answer to his question. She knew these were the kinds of wounds that tended to stay deep in the darkness, putrefying and eating away at a person's self-worth. It wouldn't be healed in one violent outburst, but like any wound exposed to the air and light, it was that much closer to healing. It would have to be enough for now."

"Yes, I think so."

She twisted the cloth in her hands, then remembered it wasn't hers. Reaching into her robes, she pulled out her wand, ready to cast a cleaning spell.

"Keep it. I have plenty more."

"Thanks. I'll just…add it to my collection."

"Maybe I'll get you a set for Christmas. Then when I make you cry, you'll be ready."

For once, his deprecating humor was directed at himself. For years, she had wanted to see a humbled Malfoy, and now that she had him feeling guilty, she wanted nothing more than to make him better. It was truly perverse.

"I'm sure neither intend for this to happen again." At least, she certainly didn't. Crying in front of Malfoy wasn't exactly on her list of favorite things. For it to have happened not once, but twice was mind-boggling.

"Got everything off your chest?" he asked, looking at her.

She nodded her head.

"Good, because now I feel like a right git."

Hermione nudged his leg with her foot, giving him the tiniest of smiles. "Well, you kind of are."

Malfoy placed his hand over his heart, head lolling to the side. "You wound me. Weren't you just telling me that words meant something?"

Hermione nudged his leg again. "As if anything could pierce through that hardened reptilian exterior."

"Well, if words can pierce a troll's hide, I'm sure they can slay a comely dragon."

She had forgotten all about the troll that was the indirect cause of her being trapped with Malfoy.

"And what words are powerful enough to hurt a troll?"

"Honestly, Hermione, you expect me to remember something like that? And even if I did, I wasn't grunting and pointing like some monkey. I'm sure that troll didn't even understand me."

"Just because we don't understand their language doesn't mean it's simple. After all, above water, merpeople sound like screeching owls, but below the waves they communicate the same way we do."

"I'm sure that's very deep, but this is a troll, Hermione. And a very ugly one at that."

"Do you have to keep calling it ugly?"

"I'm sorry, was that insensitive? Let me try again. He was a very aesthetically challenged troll. The most aesthetically challenged troll I've ever seen in my life. Better?"

"No, but I still want you to think of what you said to make him angry. It might help us get out of here sooner."

"Sure, whatever."

Hermione was surprised to see him close his eyes, trying to remember. It was odd seeing him like this, unguarded and open. If she wanted to, she could smack him and he wouldn't even have time to shield his face. But she would never do something like that. At least not now that they were out of Hogwarts.

Malfoy let out a chuckle, opening his eyes. "I just remembered. I called him a drunken, flat-footed Mooncalf that possessed the face of Manticore's backside and smelled like a pile of Hippogriff dung. You should have been there. I was inspired. The words tripped from my tongue like poetry."

Hermione shook her head. "You still haven't gotten over that Buckbeak incident, have you?"

"Mangy bird almost bit my hand off. I'll probably be traumatized for life."

"Believe me, you were messed up long before Buckbeak."

"And you're as comforting as a goblin. Where's your compassion?"

"With the troll. Now was there anything else you said to him?"

"No. Anything more would be overdoing it."

As if his so-called poetic insult hadn't been overwrought and overdone. "And what did the troll do to deserve your censure?"

"He almost stepped on my toe."

"Almost?"

"Yes."

Malfoy was quite possibly the biggest baby she had ever met.

"What did he look like?"

"What does it matter?"

"I'm curious."

"I don't know…ugly?"

Hermione tried not to laugh. After all, it wouldn't do to encourage him. "We've already established that."

"Mountain troll. River troll. Forest troll. I don't know. They all look the same."

"Actually they are _not_ the same, and they take offense when people confuse them. The mountain troll is known to hav—"

Malfoy held up his hands. "I don't care to hear the fascinating details about how hairy warts, festering boils, and extraneous, webbed toes separate one kind of ugly from the other. Whatever he is, he's fired. Trap me, his own boss, in an elevator?! What is this world coming to? No doubt your beast equality propaganda has gone to his bulbous head."

"But you insulted him! You can't fire him for this!"

"Watch me. As soon as I get out of this elevator, he's getting the ax."

"I think you're going about this the wrong way. If you would just apologize, I'm sure he would let us go. You could probably just yell it out."

"Why would I do that?"

"Maybe it will echo down the shaft, and he'll hear it. It's worth a try."

"No, I mean why on earth would I apologize? I was right; he was wrong." Malfoy stood to his feet, raising his voice and chin, shouting at the ceiling of the elevator, "If anyone should be yelling apologies, it's that brainless monstrosity. Not that I would understand a word of it, you stupi—"

Hermione jumped up and clapped her hand over Malfoy's open mouth. "Shut up!" She looked at the ceiling of the lift, which really made no sense, since she didn't have X-ray vision. "He might be listening!"

Malfoy stared at her, but didn't move. Neither of them did for a few seconds, but then she could feel his lips begin to form words against her palm. Pulling back, she wiped her hand on her robes, and said, "Well, we should at least find out who it was. What trolls are working right now?"

"Merlin, will you let this go?"

"No."

"Fine. I think it was a river troll. And since he means that much to you…" He lazily pointed his wand, pulling up the Malfoy Industries directory out of thin air. Flicking quickly through the faces of his employees, Malfoy finally stopped on a hairy, purple skinned creature with horns.

Hermione laughed.

It was a river troll alright, but Malfoy had missed one small fact.

"No wonder the troll's so upset. That he is a she."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"You know," Hermione said, "female trolls are actually supposed to be smarter and better looking than their male counterparts." She tilted her head to the side, examining the picture. Then tilted it to the other side to find the right angle. It didn't seem to exist.

"She's not that bad looking, for a troll," she said, hopefully.

"If you have to qualify it, she's bad looking."

"Why isn't anyone noticing we're gone? Or at least that there's a stuck elevator?"

"I take the floo home, and Sharon probably assumed you left with me. As for the elevator, there are two other ones that are working. This isn't the first time a troll has decided to take someone hostage. Wait long enough, and it always sorts itself out."

"That's stupid."

"Well, I didn't bloody well expect to be the one stuck in the elevator. And usually this is quite funny…just not when it's happening to me."

"So basically, we have to wait this out?"

"Yes."

Hermione settled back to the floor, groaning. "Please, will you just apologize?"

"No."

"Well, can you at least not fire her?"

Malfoy was still standing, staring down his nose at her as if she were insane. "And why should I do that?"

"For the satisfaction of knowing it would make me happy."

"If I promise that I'll think about it, will you stop talking about her? Just looking at her picture is turning my stomach." With another flick of his wand, Malfoy's favorite troll disappeared. He sat back down next to her, once again invading her space. This time she didn't mind.

Trying to change the subject and spare a fellow female her job, Hermione dropped the subject of the troll. "Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

"Of course."

"But when?"

"We'll just have to wait until the next creature of indeterminate gender comes to relieve _her_ of _her_ shift."

"And when will that be?"

Malfoy pulled up the sleeve of his robe, glancing at his wristwatch. "I'm guessing in about two more hours."

"I'm starting to get hungry." And she had to pee, but they weren't good enough friends yet to talk about the state of her bladder.

"Me too."

"What? No Fizzing Whizbees in your pocket?"

"If there were, I wouldn't be telling you about them, now would I?"

"But I thought friends were supposed to share things?"

"That's right. Why is it again that you and Weasley aren't together?"

She should have known. "That's different, and you know it."

"How?"

"Sharing candy and sharing secrets is not equivalent."

"Not just candy, Hermione. Fizzing Whizbees."

Hermione stared at Malfoy, considering. She had already broken down in tears in front of him in her office. Bared her heart and soul to him in his elevator. Would it really hurt if she told him about Ron? It wasn't like she still liked Ron or anything. It was more the whole pondering if anyone she liked would ever like her back that bothered her. But Malfoy hadn't really asked to know that.

"OK, but only if you promise not to make fun of me."

Malfoy held up his wand. "On my honor, as a Slytherin."

Hermione snorted.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Malfoy said, crossing his legs in front of him. "Now spill."

"It was nothing really. Just two people realizing they weren't right for each other."

"That's it?"

"Well, there are a few more details. I wanted to go back to Hogwarts; he didn't. I saw us waiting until I graduated before we started dating; he didn't. I needed to focus on schoolwork; he didn't. Eventually, I moved on."

"And he didn't?"

"No, actually, he moved on before me. Started dating Lavender Brown four months after I went back to Hogwarts. Can't blame him though. We weren't together, I spent all my time at school, while she was there, wanting to be in a relationship with him. She was able to give him all the things I couldn't. Ron's the type of guy that wants a girl to adore him. It makes him confident, makes him want to be a better man. I liked him, but I could never have shown it the way Lavender did, and I think that's what Ron needed."

"I see. And you were OK with that?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it hurt. I felt rejected, and I began to question what was so wrong with me that he couldn't wait. Eventually I realized I didn't really want to be with him; I just wanted to be wanted. But that's not a good reason to be in a relationship, and it helped me accept that Ron and I are better off just as friends. There were just too many differences between us for it to work."

"I thought opposites attract."

"Yes and no. He's opposite from me, but in all the wrong ways. I want someone who is motivated; someone I can respect as my intellectual equal. Don't get me wrong, I love Ron, but he didn't exactly inspire me to think deep thoughts, you know? He didn't really inspire me to anything, really. I was always having to push him to excel, and it shouldn't be that way. I want to be a girlfriend, not his mother."

Hermione laid her head back against the wall, thinking it over some more. "I mean, I know he was brave and all that, and he cared about things because I cared about them, like house elves for example, but when it came down to it, I couldn't talk, really talk about them with him. He'd try to understand, but he couldn't, and I'd just get frustrated because he was trying to please me rather than being interested because of his own initiative. I don't know. Maybe I'm just too demanding. Most girls would be fine if their boyfriend would pay any attention to the things that interested them. Do you think something's wrong with me?"

Malfoy laughed. "For not liking Weasley? Hardly. I'd say that's a sign of mental health. Now, if you had stayed with him, then I'd start to worry."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about him. It's not that he's stupid; he just doesn't care to try and learn about the things that interest me, and it drives me nuts. He's all about impulses and feelings, and that works for him. It works really well, but I just don't get it. He's brave and kind and funny and good, and some day he'll make someone, most likely Lavender, a wonderful husband, but I need just a little bit more than that. You know, like a spark."

"A spark? But you two fought all the time."

"But fighting with Ron is like fighting with a little brother. He never could beat me, and most of the time, he would just cave in because he thought that's what I wanted. I know everyone thinks I like to be right all the time, but sometimes I wouldn't mind it if a guy could challenge me, beat me at my own game."

Malfoy's gray eyes narrowed, peering at her appraisingly. "You want to be dominated?" It was more of a statement than question.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm. It was a perfectly innocent statement given the context of their conversation, but coming from the mouth of a man it just seemed…wrong, even if he didn't mean it that way. But to not answer would show that her mind had misconstrued his meaning, and that would be even more embarrassing. In as confident a voice she could muster, she answered, "Maybe."

"Well, no wonder you left Weasley. He's about as dominating as a Pygmy Puff.

Hermione sighed. "I know. I want someone to push me every step of the way, not give me a reassuring hug and wish me luck. I want fire. Ron's more of a warm blanket. Comforting. I had liked him since third year, and just always expected I would. But when the time came, when it really came down to it, I realized he wasn't what I wanted anymore. I respect him, but not in the way I want to respect the man I'm going to share the rest of my life with."

"Sounds like you want something out of _Enchanted Encounters_ by Fifi LaFolle."

Malfoy knew about witches romance novels? Hermione giggled. "You read that rubbish?"

"Of course not. My mum does. But getting back to the point, why are you looking for something in real life which you said only exists in books?"

"I lied. I'm sure it does exist, I just haven't found it yet. And until I do, I'm staying single. No point in wasting my time."

"And what is it you're looking for?"

"If you apologize to th-"

"No," he said, firmly.

"Then I'm not going to tell you."

"Doesn't matter. I can figure it out myself."

"Oh, really? You probably have as much ability of divining that as Trelawney has of predicting the future."

"Wasn't she the one who predicted that Potter was the Chosen One?"

"She got lucky one time; it doesn't count. She's still a crazy bat."

"Agreed, but I'm no Trelawney."

That was an understatement. She could hardly think of two people more different, but that didn't mean she was wrong.

After a few minutes of quiet, Hermione threw her head against the back of the elevator. "Ugh. I want to go home."

"Are you not enjoying my company?"

"I'd prefer it if it weren't in an elevator hovering forty feet above safety."

"Even if the troll were to let go, there are spells in place to make sure we don't go crashing to the ground. Just sit back and listen to this horrible music." Then Malfoy closed his eyes, and did exactly that.

She had forgotten all about the sluggish tunes echoing in the cabin. Coupled with her tiring and emotional day, it was almost enough to put her to sleep.

"What do you do here anyway?" she asked, trying to stay awake.

Malfoy opened his eyes. Sitting up straight, he looked over at her. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I don't know what is done here. It obviously makes you a lot of money."

"Interested in quitting your ministry job and working here? If you want I'll fire Sharon, and you can be my secretary."

"If I worked here, you'd be working under me as my secretary, not the other way around."

"Considering you have not the foggiest idea of what this company does, I doubt that will be happening any time soon."

"Oh, is Draco feeling threatened?"

"Hardly. In fact, I think I will answer your question now. Do you think you can manage to keep quiet?"

Hermione made the action of zipping her lips shut, locking up her mouth, and throwing away the key.

Malfoy continued. "If I had known that was all I needed to do to keep you quiet...Anyway, Malfoy Industries has changed over the years. When Maximilian Malfoy first started the business, he made money off of the muggles who were foolish enough to think alchemy was real magic. A few transfiguration spells, and he had them purchasing all sorts of ridiculous things that they thought were necessary for turning base metals into gold and silver. He also sold them potions he claimed were made with a philosopher's stone. They thought they were drinking the elixir of life, when really it was only diluted Pepper-Up potions."

Hermione frowned. She was on the verge of speaking, but Malfoy lifted his finger, pointing to her mouth. Rolling her eyes, she unlocked her lips then unzipped them. "Doesn't that bother you? He took advantage of naïve and sick people. And isn't it a bit hypocritical? After all, they were muggles."

"What can I do? It's in the past. Besides, those Pepper-Up potions probably extended their lives, since muggle life expectancy was so short back then."

Hermione shook her head in disapproval, but Malfoy continued. "Once he'd raised enough money, he moved the family to England and began building this place. It wasn't this big at the time, but then business really took off during the Black Plague. For those willing to pay the price, the Malfoys sold magical charms that would ward off the sickness. They were also creating dark magic artifacts on the side and selling them to other unscrupulous wizards, and it became their greatest source of revenue for centuries. Of course, as time passed and people became less…tolerant, that was pushed behind the scenes. For the past two centuries, they have been involved in home protection. Mostly spells and devices to keep muggles from discovering their homes. While those are still legal and necessary for keeping muggles from finding out about magical activity, we thought that with the death of Voldemort, we should try our hand at manufacturing other things."

"That's probably a good idea."

"We've actually been acquiring smaller firms and outsourcing the production of their magical items in other countries, where the cost of labor is much cheaper. As of yesterday, I'm owner of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. Let me know if you're ever interested in learning to fly. I could give you a good discount on the latest broom."

Hermione ignored the offer. "I hope you're following fair business practices and not taking advantage of your workers."

"Believe me, with the Ministry constantly breathing down our necks, I couldn't take a false step if I wanted to."

Hermione glared at him.

"I never said I wanted to, so stop looking at me like that."

"Good, because if you do, the Ministry won't be the only thing breathing down your neck."

"Is that a promise?"

Hermione's eyes widened before she smacked him on the arm. "Don't be gross."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have no sense of humor?"

"Yes, plenty of times," Hermione said, before rolling her neck in an attempt to loosen it. She did not like being cooped up in this cramped place. "What time is it now?"

When he informed her that only thirty minutes had passed since he had last checked his watch, she had to bite back her groan.

"Remind me never to enter one of your elevators."

"Next time, I'll just have you floo over. But someone wanted to walk back to work, in case you don't remember."

"I remember, but I'm not apologizing. Now let's do something before I lose my mind. How about a game of twenty questions?"

"What's that?"

"It's something people play when they're trying to get to know each other. We alternate asking questions, until we've asked each other—"

"Let me guess. Twenty questions," Malfoy said, unenthused.

Hermione pointed to her nose. "Exactly. I'll start. What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Now it's your turn," she reminded.

Malfoy smiled. "Alright. Who was your first kiss?"

"You can't ask me that!"

"Is that in the Twenty Questions Rulebook, because you never said that?"

"No," Hermione spluttered, "But I just asked you your favorite color; you should ask me something that's on the same level. You can't just ask me such…invasive questions."

"It's not my fault you wasted one of your questions. Now play by the rules and answer my question."

"No."

"Hermione, it's alright if you've never been kissed. Nothing to be embarrassed about." Those might have been the words coming out of his mouth, but the devilish gleam in his eyes roundly contradicted him. What did he think she was? Chopped bubotuber?

"Of course I've been kissed, and it was by Victor Krum."

"When?'

"No. It's my turn." Hermione searched her brain for something equally embarrassing and found it. "Were you or are you jealous of Harry?"

"Technically, that was two questions, and I'm counting both against you, though I'm only answering one. Yes. Now, when did you and Krum lock lips?"

"Fourth year. At the end of spring term. Why are you jealous of Harry?"

"You're assuming that I'm still jealous of him," Malfoy pointed out. "He had what I wanted."

"Which was?"

"That's not how the game works."

"If you answered the question, it would count. It doesn't really matter what order," she said, hoping he'd answer the question.

"Unfortunately for you, I would rather you answer my question. Did you like your Krummy kiss?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands, her ears burning.

"It must have been very good or very bad," Malfoy observed, his voice amused.

"It was bad. Very, very, very bad. He stuck his tongue in my mouth, and I started coughing. I didn't know what to do. It was so embarrassing."

"That's hardly surprising. The only thing Krum can handle is flying his broom."

"That's not very nice. He's a great guy; he just needed a little more practice."

"And did you give that to him?"

Hermione almost answered his question, but suddenly remembered it was her turn. "Nice try, but I don't have to answer that." Now thinking of what she would ask, she decided she needed to find the right question to humiliate him. Harry didn't seem to be cutting it.

"Have you ever…you know," Hermione raised her eyebrows, trying to communicate a word without having to say it, "with Pansy?"

Malfoy folded his hands in his lap, an infuriating smirk on his face, "You'll need to be more specific. I've known Pansy since we were small children, so naturally we've had many kinds of relations between us. Of course, without your specifying what kind of relations you mean, I can't really answer the question."

"You know what I mean."

"Just say it, and I'll answer the question."

Hermione shook her head violently. "I'll just ask something else."

"No, Hermione, I have not had sex with Pansy Parkinson. Now, back to Krum, did you ever kiss him again?"

"What is your fascination with me kissing Victor Krum?!"

"It obviously embarrasses you, and I'm counting that as a question, though you asked out of turn. Now answer mine."

"No! It was only the one time. Thank Merlin," she added under her breath.

"Have you ever kissed anyone besides Krum?" Malfoy asked.

"First, he kissed me, and second, yes. Now it's my turn, how many witches have you …you know…with?"

"First tell me how many guys you've kissed. I don't want you to think I'm a slag."

"Counting Krum, three. But it was only mutual with one, so the others don't count. And you have to answer the questions honestly. Otherwise there's no point."

"You seem to be fascinated with the salacious, which is ironic, since you can't even call 'it' by 'its' name and have only kissed three blokes."

"You're the one who keeps asking about who I've kissed!"

"I wasn't aware you considered the two equal to each other."

"I do not!" Hermione said, scandalized. "Now answer my question."

Malfoy started counting on his fingers, and Hermione's eyes began bulging as the number went past five, then ten, then fifteen, and so on.

Finally Malfoy seemed to slow down. "And counting that witch last night, that brings us to a grand total of…zero."

"What?! Really?!"

"I'm counting those questions too. Zero, and yes, really. Don't look so surprised."

"I guess I just assumed because…" Well, she really had no good reason, but he just seemed so worldly.

"I've noticed you do that a lot."

Hermione gave him a withering glance. "Whatever, just ask your next question."

"Who were the two others?"

"Cormac McLaggen and Ron. Who was your first kiss?"

"Pansy. Mistake I will never repeat. Now tell me, was your kiss with Weasley _magical_?" Malfoy emphasized the last word, clearly mocking her.

"It was certainly better than the ones with Krum and McLaggen. How many witches have you kissed?"

"Five. How many times with Weasley?"

"Um, twice."

Malfoy laughed. "Twice! I don't care what you say, he's gay. He only kissed you two times when he-" Malfoy suddenly stopped. "You better ask your next question before I lose my mind from laughing."

"Who were the other four?"

"Daphne _and _Astoria Greengrass," he paused, smiling, "one of the witches from Beauxbatons, can't remember her name, and…Millicent Bulstrode."

Malfoy seemed to choke over the last name, and Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. She almost couldn't hear Malfoy's protests that Millicent had been forced on him by some charmed mistletoe.

"Sure, whatever you say. I bet it was your favorite." Wiping her eyes, she then wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you kissed sisters."

"That's nothing. Blaise once snogged both the Patils. And I don't exactly approve of your list either." Malfoy, supercilious snob that he was, sniffed the air. "At least my _choices_ demonstrate that I have some taste."

"I only chose to kiss one of the people on my list!"

"Kissing him does not show good taste. Quite the opposite, in fact. Out of curiosity, who started that magical moment between you and the Weasel?"

She shouldn't answer him, but she'd have to to keep playing. Burning with mortification, she whispered, "It was me."

"Figured as much. Pygmy Puff doesn't have it in him. I bet you started the second one too."

She nodded her head, groaning.

"As your friend, I think it only fair to point out that you give up information too easily. That last one wasn't even a question. Also, I wish to make it known that you're at twelve questions, and I have asked eight. Now it's your turn."

"What?!"

"I said you were at twelve, make that thirteen questions, and I have asked eight. Your turn."

Hermione replayed the last minutes of their conversation, and he was right. "You're such a cheater," she yelled, disbelieving how she hadn't caught what he had been doing.

"Now, now. I didn't even have to inform you, but I did. And you were the one who wanted to play this game in the first place, and I have yet to break one of your rules."

"Well, maybe I don't want to play anymore."

"Fine with me. I've already found out everything I wanted to know."

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was getting tired of playing anyway."

The two stared each other down in silence, though Hermione was the first to break. Not intentionally, though, but she couldn't help yawning.

"Sleepy?" he asked.

"A little."

Malfoy glanced at his watch again. "We've probably another hour or so. Might as well take a nap."

"You won't do anything to me while I'm sleeping, right?"

Malfoy gave her an exasperated look, which ended with an arch expression. "No. Now go to sleep. I'll wake you when we're moving."

Not needing more encouragement, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them two hours later, her head was resting on Malfoy's shoulder.

"Get up, Hermione. Time to go."

She rubbed her eyes, looking at him tiredly. "Huh?"

He gently moved her head, then stood up. Taking her hand, he then pulled her to her feet. "The elevator just started moving," he informed her.

That brought her back. "About time." She stretched, moving her arms in the air. The muscles in her back and legs burned pleasantly. By the time she finished, the elevator doors were beginning to open.

Malfoy turned to her, nodding to the now empty lobby of his building. It must have been after work hours. "You still hungry?"

Starving, actually. "Yes."

"There's that new restaurant my mother mentioned in Diagon Alley. You game?"

"Alright, but you're paying, since it was your fault I was stuck in there."

"Actually, it was the troll's."

Hermione followed Malfoy out of the elevator, too happy at the prospect of food and the loo to prove him wrong.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.


	9. Vile Village, Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hi there. I get the feeling that from now on, every Unfortunate Event is going to take place over two chapters. And I'm starting to feel the strain of using these book titles. That being said, I hope that two month skip doesn't throw anyone too badly. I'll try to post a timeline for the chapters in the next update, in case anyone is confused.

Also, I'm behind in my review replies. Sorry about that. Will catch up soon.

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**Unfortunate Event Seven:**

**Vile Village, Part One

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**

Two Months Later:

It was the middle of December, and if Hermione had forgotten that Christmas was approaching, the festive decorations of Diagon Alley would have instantly reminded her. Fairies flitted around the rooftops of all the shops, occasionally dropping down to show off before pedestrians. The streets and air were dotted by nonbursting bubbles in hues of scarlet, green, gold, and silver, which children (and the occasional whimsical adult) would kick into the air as they shuffled by. Doorways dripped with silvery icicles, and window shop displays were lit with everlasting candles. It was like a scene from an enchanted Christmas card.

But of course Hermione had _not_ forgotten that her favorite holiday was approaching, even if it felt more like late spring than winter. Diagon Alley had been charmed to be a most comfortable seventy two degrees, and the snow that dusted her robes was warm and dry. She stood outside the reopened Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, tapping her foot to the beat of some merry Christmas tune as she waited for Malfoy to show up for their spot of gift shopping. Lifting her head, she stuck out her tongue to receive a snowflake.

"Having fun?"

Hermione closed her mouth and smiled. "My two-week holiday starts today, and it's almost Christmas! How could I _not_ be having fun?"

Malfoy opened the door for her and ushered her inside Florean's. She was instantly met with a wall of sound. People were chatting, laughing, and eating their treats. Of course, when they saw Malfoy and her, the witches and wizards lowered their voices, presumably so the topic of their conversation could not be overheard. As if she couldn't figure out what they were talking about.

In the three months since that first article declared she and Malfoy a couple, Hermione had appeared in the Daily Prophet more times than in the year after the War. Considering she was part of the Golden Trio, that was saying something. Something very stupid, in her opinion. Why people were more interested in her non-existent relationship exploits than her post-war accomplishments was beyond her. Much as Hermione had grown accustomed to the outrageous stories, she still found them ridiculous.

As they waited in line, Malfoy turned to her. "Any holiday plans?"

"No, I'm going to stay at home and just relax for once. I have so many movies I need to catch up on. You'll have to come over and watch with me."

"That might be a problem as I've resolved to never watch another of your muggle movies ever again."

"I saw you smiling during Pride and Prejudice." Hermione poked him in the shoulder, grinning. "Don't even try to deny it."

"I'm not denying it. I did smile. At the end. Because it was over."

She knew he was lying, buy that was alright. Christmas was near. She had other things to discuss with him anyway. "I actually do have something else planned."

"Yes?"

"On Christmas Eve night, I'm going with my family to King's College for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. It's kind of a Granger tradition we used to have before I started going to Hogwarts. With the war over and things finally settled down, we were hoping to start it again." Hermione turned away, looking at the overhead menu display though she knew what she would be ordering. It never changed. "You should come."

Malfoy didn't answer, so Hermione snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye. One of his hands was at his neck, rubbing it. He was uncomfortable, but she had dealt with that before. He would eventually cave.

She now looked over at him, eyebrows arched in expectation. "Anytime now? It's almost our turn to order."

Malfoy dropped his arm to his side, scowling at her. "Yes, I'm quite aware, thank you. Unfortunately, I will have to decline. You know my feelings about these so-called muggle field trips."

"I _know _for a fact that you like going to some muggle places. I promise this will be one of them. The music is so beautiful, even a snob like you will think it's magical."

"You're diplomacy skills are terrible."

"Is that a yes?"

"Your parents are not going to want a stranger tagging along."

"You're only a stranger because you refuse to come with me when I visit. And they won't care, since you're my friend. Now stop making excuses and say you'll come."

"Friend, yes. Family, no. It's a _family_ tradition. I'd only be intruding."

"I already asked, and they said they would be fine with it. Ron and Harry will be coming too."

Malfoy laughed. "That's your inducement? Weasley and Potter? It's decided then. I won't be going."

It was their turn to order. Hermione got her usual scoop of strawberry jam, while Malfoy asked for two helpings of the holiday special, pepper imp. After paying (separately, as Hermione always insisted), they made their way to an empty table.

Still miffed with Malfoy for declining her invitation, Hermione said a bit snidely, "I assume you have some holiday plans as well. Parents throwing another Christmas ball?"

Malfoy paused, tongue half-way out his mouth. After retracting it, he answered just as curtly, "Can't have a ball if no one will attend, so to answer your question, no, my parents will not be throwing one."

Oh.

She hadn't thought of that. In spite of the Malfoy's rising approval rating (if the Daily Prophet poll was to be believed), people would probably still be leery of being friendly to them. It was one thing to show support in an anonymous poll; it was quite another to welcome them back into one's social circle. Hermione wasn't sure if Malfoy was upset by that, but just in case she tried to be positive since she had brought the subject up in the first place.

In a hopeful voice, she chirped, "I'm sure that's not true. Some of the pure-blooded families would attend. Like the Parkinsons and the Goyles."

Malfoy was again on the verge of licking his dessert. Stopping once more, he said, "All the more reason _not_ to throw a Christmas ball. Now may I eat my ice cream before it melts?"

"Fine."

"Thank you."

As she watched him eat, Hermione slouched somewhat sulkily in her chair. While she could not read his mind, Hermione knew her own. She was angry at Malfoy for being so cranky, but mostly she was upset with herself for bringing up what must have been a touchy subject. They continued eating in silence.

Since it was her fault, she figured she owed it to him to make it better. Now done with her cone and seeing he was finished too, she said, "Let's go to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ron was just telling me about their new products, and they sounded hilarious. I might even let you try one out on me."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Pass."

Why was he always so hard to please? Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. "Is it because Ron will be there? Seriously, I cannot understand why you don't like him. You certainly play Quidditch with him often enough."

"You don't have to like the people you play Quidditch with." Malfoy smirked. "In fact, sometimes it's better if you don't."

Well, at least he seemed to be in a somewhat better mood. Standing up, Hermione tugged Malfoy to his feet. "Whatever. We'll go to the Magical Menagerie. You can help me pick out Crookshanks' new buddy."

"And how is that _delightful _ball of fuzz?" Malfoy asked, opening the door to the ice cream shop.

Hermione snorted as she passed by. Malfoy's hate for her kneazle/cat hybrid was well known. Considering Crookshanks treated him abominably whenever Malfoy entered her flat, she almost didn't blame him. Almost. Malfoy could have tried a bit harder to be nicer.

"You haven't been around the flat in a while. He misses you," Hermione said, giggling.

"More like misses tearing chunks out of my leg with his claws."

"That too."

"Well, I'll be around to torment him very soon. Things have been busy at work for the past month. We've been in negotiations with the makers of Chocolate Frogs."

"And how's that going?" Hermione asked, curious.

Malfoy smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Just agreed to terms today. Happy Christmas to me."

"Congratulations. Maybe you should be getting a new pet too. I hear they sell fire-crabs there."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'll settle for a firewhisky later." Malfoy opened the door to the pet store. "After you."

Hermione stopped at the entrance of the shop, a rainbow of color and noises assaulting her senses. Toads croaking, fire-crab shells sparkling, ravens cawing, and so much more. It was a pet-lover's dream and Hermione was beaming. Only Malfoy's nudging at her back broke her out of her reverie.

Walking past her, he headed towards the nearest section on the right: rats. "I say you get one of these," Malfoy said.

Grabbing his hand, she yanked him towards the back. "Let's go look at the cats. I'll even let you offer your opinion."

"I just did. Get him a rat."

"I'm buying Crookshanks a friend. Not a meal."

Now at the back, Hermione leaned over the glass bin that contained the kittens, all meowing for attention. Peering down at all the adorableness contained within that space, Hermione felt her stomach flip flop. "They're all so cute. I don't think I can choose."

"This isn't seventh year potions. Just pick one." Malfoy pointed at one in the corner. "There."

As there were four cats frolicking around in the corner he had indicated, Hermione had no idea which 'one' he was referring to.

Malfoy leaned further over the glass box. "That o—"

Before he could finish speaking, a white kitty with a green crescent on its forehead jumped onto Malfoy's shoulders, nuzzling his neck.

Malfoy was frozen to the spot. "Get it off me. NOW," Malfoy said urgently.

"Awww, I think you've found a new friend." Hermione continued laughing as the kitten proceeded to lick his ear.

"Hermione. Hermione! This is not funny. Get it off me!"

"It's just a little kitten. Stop being such a scaredy…cat!" Hermione burst out into another fit of giggles, but when Malfoy's hands started towards the furry creature, she finally stepped in.

"Come here, little guy," she cooed, plucking Malfoy's friend from his shoulders.

Hermione stroked the small kitten, which purred contentedly in her arms. "I think I'll be taking this one. It will be fun trying to figure out which you dislike more: being loved or hated by my cats."

Heading to the register, she pointed at things for Malfoy to pick up as they passed by. By the time they reached the counter, his arms were full of pet supplies and (surprise, surprise) he was complaining, but Hermione didn't listen. After paying for and talking to the shop owner about her new acquisitions, she shrank everything but her new cat and tucked it into her robes. The kitten she kept in her arms. Exiting the menagerie, they continued walking down the alley, looking at some of the recently opened shops and discussing possible names for her new pet.

"I don't understand what's wrong with Gitten. It rhymes with kitten, and for a nickname you could use gitty, gitsy, or even git. It's the perfect name," Malfoy said.

"I'm not naming him Gitten. It's not even a real word," Hermione said, shaking her head as she touched noses with the cat not named Gitten.

"And Crookshanks is? I'd like to see you come up with something better."

Hermione thought for a second as she stared into the feline's green eyes. In a flash, the answer came to her. "Widdershins!"

"What kind of a name is that?"

"A perfect one. It means counter-clockwise or to move in a direction opposite to the usual. I'm using it for the second meaning, as in, he must be widdershins for actually liking and going to you before me. And as for a nickname, I will call him widdy kitty."

They were just about to walk into Flourish and Botts when a store across the way caught her eye. The sign Bagshot's Second Chance Books loomed over her in all its homey brilliance. Hermione had to go in.

Pushing her way through the crowd, she opened the door, setting off a light tinkling of bells. A few wizards and witches were strolling around, but no one looked up from their books.

When Malfoy joined her a second later, she pushed Widdershins into his arms. "Hold him while I look around. I'm not sure I'm supposed to bring him in here."

Before he could protest, Hermione darted away. If there was anything she loved more than a book, it was an old one. Hermione trailed her fingers across the spines of book after book as she headed towards the back, completely in awe of all the years of knowledge there for the taking. After a few minutes of flipping through certain titles, she chose a tome on the magical and mythical creatures of Greece.

Walking back down the aisle, she read about Sirens and Sphinxes, but was distracted by a commotion at the front of the shop. Rushing over, she worried that her new pet had done something bad.

"You?! What are _you_ doing in here?! Didn't you read the sign? No Death Eaters allowed."

Hermione looked where the witch, presumably the owner, was pointing. There was no sign.

Her eyes settled on Malfoy, wondering what his reaction would be. He just stood there, eyes narrowed, with Widddershins in his arms, snarling and hissing at the older woman.

"Now I'll give you five seco-"

Mess with her friends. She'd show that rude nag.

Setting her book aside, Hermione stepped forward, chin raised. In as frosty a tone she could muster, she said, "Excuse me, what seems to be the problem?"

Standing face to face, Hermione sized up her opponent. She was a tall woman. Not as tall as Malfoy, but she had a good five inches of height and one hundred pounds of weight on Hermione. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and a pair of black-frame glasses surrounded her pale blue eyes.

For a second, the women just stared at Hermione, open mouthed and jowls quivering. Much as she tried to stop it, the stream of insults kept flowing in Hermione's head, growing nastier and nastier by the second. She knew if she didn't quickly relieve her anger, she would do something stupid. Taking a precautionary measure, she snatched Widdershins from Malfoy, filling her arms with kitten so she couldn't reach for her wand.

"Is something wrong?" she asked again, her voice still tight and strained. "Ms…"

The lady shut her mouth. It seemed the older witch was going to leave things alone, but then she spoke again, "I won't be telling my name to the likes of either of you. And there is nothing wrong, apart from this Death Eater being in my shop. I was informing him that he needs to leave. But while I'm at it, there's something else I'd like to say. Shame on you, Hermione Granger." Glancing distastefully at Malfoy, she sneered, "He's a disgrace to wizards everywhere. Of all people, you should know better, you should know how terrible this man is. And yet here you are, cavorting with this wizard scum. Well, not in my shop."

Hermione stepped forward, but Malfoy's hand stopped any more forward movement.

"Let's go, Hermione. She isn't worth the trouble."

Hermione didn't even look at him, all she could see was the witch before her, who just so happened to be wearing a name tag. Uriel. Well, this Uriel Bagshot would be getting a piece of Hermione's mind.

"Just who do you think you are to speak to me or him like that?! You don't even know him, and yet you have no problem making your own bigoted and ignorant judgments. Unlike you, I do know him. You're not even fit to look his boots, you hypocrite," she spat.

"Hermione," Malfoy said, his voice lowered in warning. His fingers gripped tighter around her elbow, but she pulled away.

Mocking the witch's former statement, Hermione continued, "And while _I'm _at it, there's something else _I'd_ like to say. I don't need your permission or approval to do anything. If I want to date him, I will, and there's nothing you or anyone can do about it. So why don't you mind your own business, you nosy old crone." Shaking with rage, she finally turned and grabbed Malfoy's hand, intentionally twining their fingers together while she grinned spitefully at the shocked Uriel. "Come on, Draco, let's go home."

And with that, she apparated them to her flat.

As soon as they appeared in her kitchen, Hermione released Malfoy's hand and set Widdershins on the floor. The kitten darted to Malfoy, who had settled in one of the chairs at her table. Widdershins was now rubbing and purring against Malfoy's legs, but Hermione was too upset to notice. Pacing the floor, hands wringing, she began speaking in a voice both high and shrill, "Can you believe the nerve of that, that, that…Oooh! There isn't an insult I can use in polite company."

Still upset, she set about the kitchen, opening and closing the cabinet doors, looking for who knew what. "I'm going to write a letter to the Ministry. Or maybe I'll just meet with Kingsley myself. Yes, I think that's what I'll do. She can't just kick you out for standing in her shop holding a cat."

Malfoy still hadn't said anything, and she still hadn't noticed.

"Or maybe I'll start a protest. Tell all my friends to stop shopping there and buy their books elsewhere. Or better yet, why don't you buy the shop out from under her, and make sure she can't enter it. We'll put our own sign up. No Snaggle-Toothed Harpies Allowed." Hermione chuckled at the idea. "I actually like that one. What do you think?"

Now that she was ready for his opinion, she noticed he didn't answer. She looked over at Malfoy, only to find him staring at Widdershins. The kitten was now batting Crookshanks, who had entered sometime during Hermione's rant, across his squashed face with his tiny paws.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Hermione asked.

He finally looked over at her; he was the picture of serenity. "No, and neither are you," he said.

Hermione spluttered. "What do you mean?! Of course I'm going to say something. That witch had no right to say those things to you."

"It was nothing."

"No, it was _not_ nothing. She should have to apologize for what she said."

"I can tell you now she isn't going to. Like I said, that was nothing. I've heard much worse. "

"You have?! When? Where?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. It's one thing to dislike you for the past, but to punish you for things you haven't done is ridiculous and horribly unfair."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the real world, Hermione. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you'll get over it."

"Well, I don't accept it. And neither should you."

Malfoy stood from his chair and started walking to her. "As touching as your crusade on my behalf is, you shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, your hair is a frightful mess." He flicked at it lazily. "It's frizzy and sending off sparks."

"Don't touch it!" Hermione smacked his hand away and tried smoothing her hair down. "It does that sometimes. It'll go away soon enough."

Malfoy gave her a twisted smile. "You should have seen the way that witch's eyes widened when you stepped forward. She must have thought you were going to strike her down with a bolt of lightning."

"If I had that power, I would have."

"My dear, rash, naïve Hermione. You can't go fighting every perceived injustice in the world. Which brings me to my second point. They are going to be all over you in the Prophet tomorrow."

"I don't care. I didn't do anything wrong."

"You called that old woman a hypocrite and a nosy, old crone."

Hermione sniffed, indignant. "Well, she is."

Malfoy shook his head, though he didn't look amused. "It's alright for my reputation to take a hit. I earned it. You didn't."

"If you were still a Death Eater, I would have been right there with her, kicking you out myself. But you're not, and it's not fair that she should treat you like one. It's been almost two years since the war ended. I know what it's like to be insulted over things you have no control over, and I'm not going to sit back and watch it happen to someone else. If my reputation has to suffer for it, so be it."

"But you're forgetting that I did have control over my actions. No one forced me to become a Death Eater."

"Well, yes, but you were also trying to protect your parents. And you aren't a Death Eater anymore."

He studied her for a second, before a small smirk curled his lips. "Your damaged reputation does me no good. They probably think I've corrupted you. You're supposed to be influencing me for the better."

"Is that all you care about?! Reputations?!" She raised her hand to smack his arm, but he caught it. For a second, his face was serious once again, but then his face lit up with a smile. It was infectious.

"It's only words, Hermione. At least she wasn't trying to hit me."

"It's _never_ only words. You know that." Hermione dropped her hand and sighed. She could never stay mad at him. It was annoying.

Malfoy shrugged. "Let me rephrase. It's only Bagshot's words. Hers don't matter much to me."

Hermione walked over to one of her chairs and sank down into it. Now that she was at home, away from the situation, she realized that perhaps she had overreacted. The Uriel witch had deserved everything she had gotten, but Malfoy was right. Bagshot's words and opinion didn't amount to a hill of beans. Hermione shouldn't have let the old witch get under her skin.

"I probably did go a little overboard. Do you really think it's going to show up in tomorrow's papers?" she asked.

He didn't answer, just lifted an eyebrow, giving her his trademark 'you are insane' look.

"I suppose I'll just add it to the collection," Hermione said with a weak smile, gesturing to her refrigerator. It was covered with clippings of her and Malfoy from the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. They had even been given a ridiculous nickname for their relationship: Dramione.

The collection had begun one Friday night, when Hermione was in a particularly foul mood after returning from work. Malfoy had come over and pulled out that day's newspaper, and with his characteristic sarcasm and cynicism, read the article, inserting his snide commentary as he went. By the end, Hermione was in tears from laughing.

Whenever she needed a pick-me-up or a decent giggle, she would turn to fridge and read the articles with his voice and face in her mind. Or sometimes, she would just call him over and have him read them to her for the full effect.

**Disgraced Pureblood Prince and Potter's Princess Make Magic Together**

was joined by

**Meet the Family: Dramione's Broomsticks Brunch with Future Mum-In-Law**

**Mischief Managed: Dramione Meetings Disguised as Work **

**Trolls or Love at Thirty Feet: Dramione in Elevator for over Three Hours**

**Bad Blood Buried: Potter and Weasley Befriend Granger's Guy**

**Quidditch Coupling: Dramione Love on the Pitch**

And there were many more.

Every single headline was ridiculously out of context and therefore uproariously funny. Reading them over again, she was almost looking forward to tomorrow's paper.

Her cheerful mood sufficiently returned, Hermione turned to Malfoy. "I have an idea."

Malfoy took a step back. "I should leave."

"Absolutely not. Our Christmas shopping was interrupted, and I still have gifts to buy. You're coming with me."

"Where?"

Ignoring his question, Hermione looked appraisingly at him. "You're going to need to dress a bit more warmly." Summoning two scarfs from her closet, she threw one around his neck and tied it tightly.

Malfoy looked down at the scrap of fabric in disgust, and opened his mouth, ready to make known his unhappiness. But then she was waving her wand, transfiguring his robes into a pair of jeans and a black sweater. It complemented the Gryffindor scarf quite nicely. No wonder Malfoy was speechless.

"You should wear scarlet and gold more often. It suits you," she said, with a wry smile. Then she fixed her own scarf, transfigured her own outfit, and began pulling him towards her fire place. The task was made somewhat difficult by him dragging his feet behind him.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Shopping." It was true, but she was leaving out some minor details.

Before he could get too far away, she tossed some floo powder and yelled out her destination. Seeing he was trying to run away, she grabbed at one of the tails of his scarf and pulled him with her into the flames.

After a small scuffle, she managed to push Malfoy through the fireplace into their destination. She could tell he was upset, but knew he wouldn't say a word. Not in front of _them_.

Hermione turned around, smiling brightly at the two people whose home they had just invaded. The older couple had been sitting on their couch, reading, but jumped to their feet as soon as she and Malfoy had appeared.

"Hermione," the woman said, "what's going on?"

"Mum, dad, I'd like you to meet my friend, Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please Review. And if you could do me a favor, could you let me know if you think either of them like each other and when it might have happened? I haven't decided if they've fallen for each other yet (though I think one has), and I'd like to have your opinion/perceptions on whether it seems they have or not. It would be greatly appreciated. **


	10. Vile Village, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing. =D

Now for a really long Author's Note...

As for the timeline I promised. Everything so far has taken place in 1999. May or June – H. graduates from Hogwarts; Late July- H. starts job at Ministry; Late August- Chapters 1 and 2; September- Chapters 3, and 4; October- Chapters 5, 6, 7 and 8; Rest of October and November- They are spending a bunch of time with each other. Malfoy joins the Quidditch League Ron and Harry play in. December- Chapters 9 and 10.

I had to go back and change some time references, but I think it all works now. =D

* * *

Thanks for all the responses about their relationship. I hadn't really thought about it as I was writing, but now that I've sat down and pondered, here's my take. Don't read if you don't want to know; just skip to the beginning of the chapter. =D:

I think Malfoy's been aware of Hermione for a while. Ever since she hit him. Not that he's liked her for that long, but she's been under his skin since then. He probably noticed that she was pretty at the Yule Ball, like everyone else did, but he didn't really care. I think actual interest was piqued the day she appeared in Andromeda's house dripping wet. His insult was most likely a mask, because he probably found her very attractive.

In chapters two and three, I think he was just bugging her because he knew it drove her nuts. He's stopped feeling maliciously towards her a long while back, so it's more a matter of just getting on her nerves. In chapter four, when he visits her at the office, I think things start to change. When she started bawling on the floor, I imagine he starts to develop more friendly feelings towards her.

As for him liking her as more than a friend, I think that starts before the Hogwarts visit. It's been a month after her breaking down in the office, so he's had some time to think about her. As Lady Sol pointed out, when he makes that line about letting her believe he just wants to use her for reputation's sake, he's actually telling the truth.

After she confronts that witch in the used book shop, I think his heart belongs to Hermione. And I'm pretty sure he is very much aware that he likes her and is on the verge of being in love with her. On the other hand, Hermione is pretty much clueless. Even if she had suspicions, she never would believe that Malfoy could actually like her. As you will see in this chapter, she will make up excuse after excuse rather than believe the obvious: he likes her and she is starting to like him. I think she's one of those girls who is afraid to risk her heart, so she holds back until it's obvious that her feelings would be returned. If that's not the case in the books, I think it could be argued that she would try that after her "relationship" failed with Ron. It would be the smart thing to do.

Everything has been written from Hermione's POV, so we don't really know what Malfoy's thinking. Just her perceptions of him. But I think there are some hints of him liking her poking through. He talks of Weasley and insults him all the time because he's jealous. Hermione just thinks it's because Malfoy's always disliked Weasley. I think he's trying to invade her life little by little, because if he declared his intentions her mind would explode. But at the same time, he really doesn't want her treating him like Harry and Ron. I agree with his assessment that Hermione is scared. Her one attempt at a relationship with Ron didn't really work (for whatever reason, though I think incompatibility played a huge part), and she doesn't realize it, but she's too intimidating for any guy to approach her. So she thinks no one likes her. Rather than waste time thinking about that, she is content to bury herself in work. And Malfoy is content to wait for her, provided no one hones in on his "territory."

For me, they work because they challenge each other. I think deep down, Malfoy wants to be a good guy (that's why he helps her at the Quidditch game and in her office). But that's not his image, and he's not supposed to care about stuff like that. So he hides his attempts behind sarcasm and teasing. It would hurt too much to truly make himself vulnerable. But I think Hermione can sense that, and now being his friend is more than doing Andromeda a favor. She really likes Malfoy and wants him to be the good guy. And he loves that she can accept him as a good guy. Right now they keep fighting all the time, but really it's good natured back and forth. If they ever said something they thought hurt the other person, they would stop (as Malfoy does in the elevator). I also think he's smart enough for her. And he's stubborn enough to outlast her and make her see his side of an argument. Things will be taking a softer turn over the next couple of chapters.

Anyway, that's my take. You can, of course, read into it whatever makes you happy. =D If this seems incongruous with what I've written, feel free to point it out.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Seven:**

**Vile Village, Part Two**

* * *

Hermione watched as her mother rushed over to greet Malfoy. As expected, her father stood back, slightly aloof. Even with Ron and Harry he was always a bit stand-offish. The typical over-protective father, he sometimes grated on Hermione's nerves. As if she wouldn't have perfectly good sense when it came to choosing her friends.

Smile lighting up her face, her mother stretched out her hand to Malfoy. Much to Hermione's surprise, he took it without a moment's hesitation. And instead of the usual handshake, her mother was treated with a gallant kiss to the back of the hand. "Hello, Mrs. Granger. Pleased to meet you."

Malfoy really could pour on the charm when he wanted to, though it never seemed to be around Hermione. If he were only half this agreeable with her, they probably wouldn't fight so much.

"Oh!" Her mother giggled at the show of chivalry. "Hello, Draco. And please call me Allison. It's so nice to finally meet you. Hermione's told us so much about you."

Actually, she hadn't. Hermione was beginning to regret bringing Malfoy here. Her mother had been going through this phase where she kept trying to set her up. And though Allison had promised she would do no such thing should Hermione ever bring Malfoy over, Hermione was beginning to think her mother had lied.

Malfoy grimaced, relinquishing Allison's hand. "Then I should probably apologize."

Allison giggled again, lightly slapping Malfoy on the arm. "Nonsense. If Hermione's forgiven you, that's all that matters. Bygones. Any friend of Hermione's is family."

Hermione stood there, wide-eyed. Was her mother flirting with Malfoy? She certainly hoped not.

Her father finally stepped forward, grasping Malfoy's hand in what was likely a death grip. Hermione tried not to smile as she thought she saw Malfoy suppress a wince. "So you're the boy that keeps popping up in the paper with my daughter. Richard Granger, nice to meet you."

Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, but Allison beat him to it, breaking up their handshake. "Now sweetie, Hermione told you those stories aren't true. Unless she's been keeping you a secret, Draco." Allison winked at Malfoy, who smiled back, completely at ease.

Oh. Sweet. Circe. Her mother _was_ flirting with Malfoy. That was definitely worse than her father reading those stories in the Prophet. Speaking of which, she needed to cancel their subscription. It made sense after the War, when she was trying to catch them up on what had been going on in her life. Now it was just an embarrassment.

Allison ushered Malfoy over to the couch and sat down next to him. Hermione joined them, sandwiching Malfoy, while her father retreated to his recliner.

"So Draco, do you know of any young men in Hermione's life? She never mentions anyone when I ask."

Way to jump into a totally inappropriate and personal conversation topic with a boy you hardly know, mother. Hermione would definitely need to speak with her about that later.

Malfoy glanced at Hermione, a glimmer in his eye. This was bad. Very bad.

Turning to Allison, he said, "Hermione's been holding out on you. One of my friends informed me she has quite the following at work amongst the interns."

Hermione tapped Malfoy on the shoulder and demanded, "Who said that?"

"Pansy," he replied.

Well that explained it. "Mum, that's not true. Pansy's lying."

"Why would she do that?" asked her mother, all innocence and naivety.

"She hates me," Hermione said.

"Hermione's just being overdramatic," Malfoy said.

Allison gave him a knowing smile. "She tends to do that. But it's part of her charm."

Malfoy nodded, then turned to look at Hermione, gray eyes still sparkling with mischief, "And if you're unwilling to trust Pansy, I've heard it from others as well. Blaise also asks about you every now and then. And so does Gregory."

Allison shook her head, mildly exasperated. "I keep telling her she needs to go and find herself a nice young man and settle down, but she says she is too focused on her work. Your dad and I are worried, pumpkin. You aren't getting any younger."

"I'm twenty years old!" Hermione protested, as her dad said, "I am _not_ worried."

Both Malfoy and her mother ignored them. Turning back to Allison, he said, "If I hadn't already known, I would never have guessed you were old enough to be Hermione's mother."

That was rich. If his simultaneous snort was any indication, her father felt the same way.

Hermione's mother was, of course, thrilled by the compliment. Trying not to roll her eyes, Hermione said, "It's not like I'm in hiding, mum. If anyone likes me, they've certainly never said anything about it to me."

"And why would they? If you keep saying you don't want to be in a relationship, they're never going to work up the nerve to ask you out. You need to give them some encouragement. Think of what you must seem like to them. You've grown up to be a beautiful young woman. You're most likely smarter than they are, and a successful war hero to boot. That's a frightening combination for any man. Isn't that true, Draco?"

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "Most men are too intimidated to approach her."

Not used to this kind of conversation, Hermione was at a loss for words. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she wondered why everyone was ganging up on her. Well, everyone but her dad, but if he had his way, she'd stay single forever.

"Well, what would you have me do? Show up to work in sweats and hit myself over the head with a rock?" Hermione asked.

Allison looked over at Malfoy, grin on her face. "See, Draco, overdramatic."

"I'm right here, mum. I can hear you."

"But will you listen?" Allison asked.

She was perfectly capable of following directions, thank you very much. Hermione scowled at the insult.

"Pumpkin, don't do that. It ruins your pretty face. And as for the young men, all you need to do is talk to them. How do you think I got to know your father?"

Easy for her mother to say. She could handle herself in a conversation and was comfortable with herself when discussing things other than school. It probably helped that she had always been pretty, had manageable, shiny hair, and a very nice smile. And even though Hermione looked like her, she had inherited her father's hair, teeth, and sometimes difficult personality.

"Mum, I'm not going up to random men that I don't know. You know I can't do that. I'll trip over my words and make a fool of myself. Besides, if they like me so much, they should be pursuing me. I've not had one man visit me at the office or sit with me at lunch. If these so-called admirers exist (which is still up for debate), they are cowards."

"And let's hope it stays that way," her father muttered under his breath.

"Don't say that, Richard! I want grandchildren!"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Allison. I doubt you would want any of these men as your son-in-law. Hermione is too good for them," Malfoy said, reassuringly.

Allison gave him a grateful sigh, but Hermione saw her dad's lip curl. "How kind of you to say, Draco. You seem like a very nice young man." Allison looked pointedly at her daughter. "Wouldn't you agree, pumpkin?"

"Sure, whatever," Hermione said.

"So, Draco, are you and Pansy dating?" Allison asked.

"No. She's just an old friend of the family. If I'm not mistaken, she will soon be getting engaged to one of Hermione's coworkers."

"Lancelot? That was quick," Hermione said.

"When Pansy wants something, she won't take no for an answer," Malfoy said, a bit wryly.

Allison once again looked at her daughter, eyebrows raised and telegraphing a not-so-subtle meaning. "I take it you're single, Draco."

"Yes. What with managing my family's company I don't have much time for dating."

"Certainly have enough time to spend with my daughter," Richard grumbled.

"Richard is such a kidder, aren't you, dear?" As much as her mother tried to play it off, Hermione could see the effort it took to keep her smile in place. "You're in charge of your family's company? That's quite impressive for someone your age. I for one am glad that someone as responsible as you has the time to spend with our Hermione. We can't always be watching her, and it's so reassuring to know she's in safe hands."

Had Hermione entered some time warp? This was the 21st century, not the medieval ages for crying out loud. She could feel herself wilting under the oppression. Ever since her parents had returned from Australia, her mother had been hell-bent on getting her to date. It made some sense. After all, as her mother always reminded her and the War demonstrated with frightening clarity, tomorrow was never guaranteed. But this was insane. Why didn't her mother just barter her away for some chickens, a mule, and a flagon of ale?

"We thought that perhaps Ron Weasley would ask her out, but nothing came of it." Hermione could see the wheels turning in her mom's mind. The woman was setting a trap and was waiting to pounce on his answer.

Malfoy coughed, and Hermione watched him struggle to say something polite about her red-headed friend. "That's…unfortunate."

Allison looked confused, no doubt perplexed that her "betrothed" hadn't reacted jealously. "You think so?" she said, "We were actually quite happy nothing happened."

Really? That was news to her. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" Hermione said.

"There was no point, pumpkin. It was just one of those childish infatuations that fades with time. Saying something would have only made it worse, especially since you never even told us you were interested in him."

"Don't worry." Malfoy patted Hermione on the knee, drawing death rays from her father and smiles from her mother, neither of which he seemed to notice. "I'm sure the right man will come along."

Looking at Malfoy's hand on her knee, Allison said, "You know, I think you just might be right."

Trying not to attract anyone's attention, Hermione pinched Malfoy's leg. He did not remove his hand. Instead, he turned and smiled at her. "Yes?"

She was going to kill him. But first they had to get out of there.

"Would you kids like something to eat?" Allison asked.

Hermione jumped to her feet. If they didn't leave now, they never would. "No! I mean, thanks, mum, but we just stopped by to get the car. I'm taking him to the mall for some muggle Christmas shopping."

No one else moved from their respective seats.

"That's nice, pumpkin. Draco, did Hermione mention we're going to King's College for Christmas Eve."

Ha. Her mother was in for a rude awakening. Hermione crossed her arms, smugly waiting for the disillusionment charm Malfoy must have cast on himself to wear off.

"No, Allison, I'm afraid she has not," he said.

Could Hermione wait until she was outside to kill him? She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Well, you simply must come. They have the most glorious choir, and the music is positively heavenly."

"It sounds delightful. I would love to join you. Thanks for inviting me."

Allison beamed. "No, thank _you_. Hermione was telling me that Harry and Ron will be bringing their girlfriends. Now everyone will have a date."

This was revolting. So that's exactly what Hermione did. Revolt. Without saying goodbye, she started walking toward the garage.

She could hear Malfoy bidding his adieus to her parents before he caught up with her. Unfortunately, she was not far enough away to miss her mother shout out, "You two have fun. And mind the mistletoe."

Not to be outdone, her father said, "Make sure you're back home before nine."

Hermione yanked open the garage door and got inside the vehicle. It was freezing.

Malfoy stood outside, peering at her through the window. Turning the ignition on, she put the heater on full blast, then rolled down the passenger-side window.

"Get in," she ordered, buckling her seatbelt.

Malfoy rapped his knuckle against the doorframe. "If you think I'm getting into this…thing-"

"It's called a car."

"Whatever it is, it's of questionable construction, and if you think I'm going to entrust my life to this box on wheels, you're daft."

Hermione wasn't in the mood to baby Malfoy. She just wanted to get out of there before her mother and father decided to join them.

"There are airbags and seatbelts and…fenders. You'll be perfectly safe. Now get in!"

Malfoy pursed his lips in displeasure. "Air and a scrap of material. How comforting."

Hermione dropped her head against the steering wheel, accidentally setting off the horn and scaring Malfoy, who startled with a jolt. Glancing up at his horrified face, she almost laughed.

"Just cast a few stabilizing charms if it bothers you so much. I guarantee you this is safer than any broom. At least if we crash, there is some kind of outer protection. And we could always apparate away before anything happened."

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest.

"Good grief. Just trust me, OK?"

Opening the door, he slid into the passenger seat. "The things I do for you," he muttered.

"Yes, yes, I know. I ask the world of you, and being around me is sheer torture. Now put your seat belt on. The mall's closing in an hour, so we need to hurry up."

Instead of buckling up, Malfoy began blowing out puffs of air, seemingly enchanted with watching the condensation curl and disappear. Probably thought he was some kind of dragon. Exasperated, Hermione reached across him, grabbing his seat belt.

The harness fumbled out of her fingers as his breath tickled against her cheek and ear. "Stop that," she glared at him. Naturally, he didn't, but she managed to snap his buckle into place.

"What are you? Eight years old?" she complained as she looked in the rear view mirror, carefully backing out into the driveway.

"Perhaps if it weren't so chilly in your _car_, I wouldn't be getting so distracted." He raised his hands, warding off the subarctic air that was blasting out of the vents and tumbling through his hair. "Are you trying to give me a cold?"

"The air will warm up once the engine does," she said bluntly, belatedly remembering to roll up Malfoy's window.

"Too long." He pulled out his wand, warming the atmosphere instantly. "And now I can take this thing off." He ripped off his scarf, then began rubbing his neck. "I think it gave me a rash."

Hermione concentrated on the road and getting to the mall in one piece.

Somehow managing to recline the chair without her help, he leaned back. Putting his arms behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. "Well, that was fun," he said.

"What?'

"Meeting your parents. If I had known they were so charming, I would have come sooner."

"Yeah, right."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him tilt his head to the side. She wasn't sure, but it felt like he was staring at her.

"I especially liked your mother," he said.

"And she liked you too," Hermione added, somewhat snidely.

"Unsurprising. She seems like an intelligent lady."

"She is." When she wasn't trying to set her up with Malfoy. "Both my parents are."

"You should listen to her."

Hermione laughed. "You're one to talk. You're always complaining about your mother pestering you about settling down, and yet I've never seen you go on one date."

"I prefer to work behind the scenes."

Shocked, Hermione looked over at him. "You're dating?!"

"Hermione!" Malfoy said, sitting up sharply in his chair. "Eyes on the road!"

Attention back on the street, she tried not to blush as he smirked beside her. It didn't help that the car was burning up. She clawed at her throat, trying to loosen her scarf.

"I never said I was dating. I'm just…sizing up my options."

Oh.

She didn't like the sound of that.

Ever the rational person, she tried to explain why she found that thought so disturbing. With Harry and Ron spending most of their free time with Ginny and Lavender, she supposed she had come to rely on Malfoy, to assume that he would always be there for her. He couldn't be if he was with another girl.

Hermione's chest tightened at the thought of having to give that up, which was an interesting reaction in itself. What did it mean? Could it really be that Malfoy was now her closest friend? She knew it was selfish to want him to remain single until she found someone for herself, but she wasn't ready to lose him to some other girl.

Now, that was a frightening thought. If he even had an inkling of how much he meant to her, she'd never hear the end of it.

"Don't worry, Hermione." His smile gleamed in the darkness. "I'll always have time for you."

"That's not…I don't care if you date someone. In fact, please do. I spend too much time with you as it is."

Why was she saying that? She didn't mean it.

"You don't mean that."

AH! Was he reading her mind? Harry had told her Malfoy was an Occlumens, but perhaps there was more. She wouldn't put it past him to be a Legilimens and not tell her.

"Besides, your mother seems to think we don't spend enough time together," he said,

Hermione groaned. 'Don't remind me. Look, if I apologize for that, will you not bring it up again? I have no idea where that came from. I told her we don't like each other in that way."

"No need to apologize. She can't help it that I'm handsome, responsible, intelligent, and nice. The ideal catch for any woman's daughter."

"You're hilarious too, by the way. Don't forget that."

"I think you're mom might have a point."

There was an odd tone in his voice that made Hermione grip the steering wheel tighter. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You really should be dating more."

"You know how hard they work me at the Ministry. I barely have time to spend with you, let alone date."

"But how are you supposed to ever meet anyone if you're buried under mounds of work?"

"I don't need to date wizard after wizard to find out who's right for me. I know who I am and what kind of man would work well with me."

"No you don't. And I think if you did, you'd probably run away."

"You're wrong. When he comes along, I'll know. And then I'll do something about it."

"Hiding behind your desk in a quivering heap doesn't count."

"That's not what I'm going to do. I'm not a coward."

"Yes, I know, you're a Gryffindor. Blah blah blah. When it comes to things you understand, I agree with you. But I wager you know little about men, and they terrify you."

"Wrong again. Except for Ginny, my closest friends are men, and if anything, they're terrified of me." Darn straight they were!

With her attention divided between the road and the person next to her, she couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw Malfoy roll his eyes. "And if one of us asked you out? What would you do then?" he said.

"Well, if Ron or Harry did that, I'd yell at them and hex them, since they already have girlfriends."

"And if I did?"

"I don't know. It's not something I think about, because you'd never do that. Why are you asking me all these questions?"

It would be too much to expect that he would answer her. He was always so evasive. Perhaps she should take up Legilimency. Then she'd never have to talk to him. Just look into his eyes and get all the answers she wanted.

"You do realize that you don't view me or your other guy friends as real men, right?" he said.

"That's preposterous. Unlike you, I can tell the difference between a male and a female."

"Hermione, think about it. What you don't understand, you ignore or reclassify or change until it's something you are familiar with and can deal with. You've basically neutered me, so I can fit in one of your nice, manageable categories. I should be outraged." He had said this gently, as if he thought this information would hurt her. And it might have, if it weren't so categorically and comprehensively false.

"I liked Ron, remember. How do you explain that?"

"What did you do when it became apparent he liked you back? You ran away to Hogwarts and you kept him at arm's length."

"I didn't run away to Hogwarts. I wanted to continue my education. And I told you Ron and I wouldn't work."

"And you're right about that, but you're also a coward. Face it, Hermione, you're scared to put yourself out there, and you use your work or school or whatever cause of the week you're advocating as an excuse to stay closed off."

"You're so wrong, it's pointless to even argue with you about this," Hermione said.

Before he could reply, Hermione flipped on the radio. As she did every year, her mother had set it to the local station that only played holiday music during the month of December. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was coming to an end.

In her periphery, Malfoy dug his right hand into his hair, pulling at the blond strands. She had frustrated him. Good.

His voice still quiet, he said, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, most guys would find it charming, considering how in all other respects you're so damned intimidating."

If he wouldn't listen to reason, she wouldn't listen to him. Twisting the dial viciously, she sought to drown out his voice. How ironic that it was the strains of Silent Night that roared through the speakers.

"The sooner you admit that I'm right, you'll feel much better. I promise."

She began singing along with the lyrics. "…Love's pure light, Radiant beams from Thy holy face, With the dawn of-"

Malfoy turned the knob with a swift jerk, putting an end to her Christmas carol. "You're going to have to speak with me some time." His words sounded forced and clipped; he was upset. What reason did he have to be angry with her? He was the one calling her a chicken and an emasculator of men.

"Look, I understand this isn't something you want to hear, but if you would just listen, you'd see that I'm right."

Hermione turned to him and glared. Picking up her wand, she muttered, "Silencio."

The instant she cast the spell, she regretted it. Not because of the act itself; that was pretty harmless. No, it was the dangerous twinkle that seemed to spark in his gray eyes. But she wouldn't back down, because she was right. Swallowing her trepidation, she stared at the red lights of the car in front of her.

Only two more miles to go.

A few second later, she could see him out of the corner of her eye, waving his hands wildly in the air. Amateur. It was going to take more than that for her to stop ignoring him.

About half a mile later, she found her hand in Malfoy's grip.

Hermione hardened her heart. Unless he was going to apologize, she wasn't going to give him the time of day.

But he was more determined than she gave him credit for.

Her whole arm began tingling as his hand wrapped and unwrapped around her wrist, one long finger at a time.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself not to react in any way. He was expecting her to, and she wouldn't let him win.

Only one more mile to go.

Every one of those 5, 280 feet was agony. Her nerves were on red alert, highly sensitized to every stupid little movement he made. Like when he began tracing tiny circles on the back of her hand. Or when he turned her fingers over and repeated the same action on the inside of her wrist. Or when he lifted her hand closer to his face.

The fine point of his nose dropped down, tracing the lines of her palm so lightly she couldn't even be sure he was actually touching her. His exhalations fanned out over her skin, sending shivers along the length of her spine.

Hermione's heart was racing. She had thought this was about gaining her attention, but it was more than that. He was trying to win their previous argument. She knew he was capable of fighting dirty, but this was low, even for him.

Malfoy flexed his fingers and with them hers, opening up her hand completely. Her palm was so close to his mouth, his breath was still warm as it fell on her.

He wouldn't dare!

His lips pressed against her palm told her that he had, in fact, dared.

The air caught in her throat, and for a second she couldn't breathe. It was like fire igniting in her lungs. Ripping her hand away, Hermione cradled it against her chest as if he had broken it.

As soon as she had parked the car and turned it off, she yanked the key out of the ignition and tried to get out of her seatbelt. The treacherous buckle wouldn't budge. After shaking it, she was on the verge of hexing it off, but it finally released. Scrambling out of the car, she glared at Malfoy, who was casually leaning on the roof of the car. "What are you doing?!" she nearly screamed.

Malfoy pointed to his throat, which was once again covered with her scarf.

Glancing to see if anyone was around, Hermione quietly hissed, "Finite."

Walking around the car towards her, he said, "Just proving my point."

"That proves nothing. You need both hands to drive, and you were distracting me. It's snowing, the streets are icy, and I needed all of my attention on the road. And look, here I am. Haven't run away yet. Haven't buried my nose in a work file. Though perhaps you're right about the emasculating bit. I'm sorely tempted to neuter you if you ever do anything like that again. And don't think I won't. I learned a hex in a personal defense class, and it's irreversible. So if you ever want to have Malfoy babies, you keep your hands to yourself."

"Alright. I'll admit I was wrong. You are perfectly capable of handling advances from the opposite sex." He held out his hand to her, possessing all the charm and grace of a prince. It wasn't fair. After all her blustering and yelling, not even one of his hairs seemed out of place. And that wasn't the worst of it.

He was right. She was scared.

"Truce?" he said, smiling down benignly at her.

"I really shouldn't forgive you," she said, scuffing her sneaker into the asphalt.

"I'm insufferable, I know. Mind if we take the insults inside? I think my toes are beginning to freeze."

Without so much as a 'by your leave' he took her hand and began dragging her through the parking lot to the mall entrance.

Together they walked together through the doors. Hermione was fighting the urge to squirm. It wasn't as if they had never held hands before. She'd even done it a few times earlier in the day, but never for this long. The platonic action didn't seem quite so platonic anymore.

They had entered near the food court, which, like Diagon Alley, was decorated for the upcoming holiday. Just ahead was a large pavilion, a wide, open expanse at the center of the mall. Draco suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Hermione to bump into his back.

"What is that?"

Peering around his shoulder, she saw a long line of people standing, all of them waiting to see Santa Claus. The jolly old imposter was sitting on a large throne, flanked by teenagers dressed as his elves. The tile around them was covered with red carpet, and the whole area was decorated with large candy canes, reindeer, and twinkling Christmas trees. Off to the side was a small room designed to look like a gingerbread house. Kids were darting in and out of it, having their pictures taken by their doting parents.

Hermione had actually come to the mall with the intent of introducing Malfoy to this particular muggle tradition, but she had completely forgotten about it until now. Thankful for the distraction, she pulled Malfoy towards it.

"That is Santa's Village, and you are going to tell him what you want for Christmas."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Consider it your Christmas gift to me."

They reached the end of the line, and when Hermione asked one of the nearby elves how long the wait was, she was informed they had another thirty minutes or so.

"I'm hungry. I'll get us something to eat." Extracting her hand from his, she said, "Be right back."

Once she was out of sight, she slowed her walk, eventually ambling to a pretzel shop as she tried to sort out her feelings. She decided that if Malfoy kept acting strangely, she would simply tell him he was right and that she didn't appreciate him knowingly making her uncomfortable just to prove his point. Once that was out in the open, things would go back to normal. Purchasing two twists, she headed back to Santa's Village and to Malfoy, good will toward a certain man completely restored.

When she returned, Malfoy was talking to a couple of women in line. One was blonde, the other brunette, and they both looked to be about her age, give or take a year. They were also most definitely flirting with her friend. And he was talking back with them, which was a sight in itself. The only muggles she had willingly seen him converse with were her parents and that had just happened today.

She instantly disliked them. They were the kind of girls that Ron would drool over, the kind of girls who would wear miniskirts in the middle of winter. As if low-cut v-neck sweaters, skinny scarves, and a pair of sheepskin boots would make up for an utter lack of clothing on their legs. Why was it that guys couldn't see through that? Once again, she was going to have to come to the rescue, just as she had so many times in the past with Ron and Harry.

She had thought Malfoy knew better.

Walking towards the group, she went underneath the rope barricade, pretzels in hand.

She waited for Malfoy to turn around and notice her, but he seemed engrossed in his conversation with the two…ladies. As she listened, she could hardly understand why.

The blonde one was leaning close to Malfoy, talking animatedly. "Yeah, like I was telling Krissy, Luxe is _the_ place to go clubbing. They always have the best DJs, and the bar is wonderful. Really great selection."

Krissy, the brunette, giggled and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "We're actually going there later tonight. You should come check it out with us."

"I'll think about it if I don't have any other plans," Malfoy answered.

Blondie leaned in, putting her hand on his arm. "Forget your plans. Come on, Draco. You only live once."

Having heard enough, Hermione cleared her throat. Malfoy turned around. Finally. "Hey, Hermione."

She held out a pretzel to him, and he took it. "Thanks. I just met these two ladies in line." Indicating the dark haired one, he said, "Hermione, this is Krissy and-"

"I'm Michelle," the blonde said, holding out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said, shaking Michelle's perfectly manicured fingers.

"So are you and Draco dating?" Krissy asked.

Malfoy laughed, "What? Me and Hermione? No. We're just friends."

That seemed to set the bimbos at ease. "Oh, well, she can come along if she wants."

"Sorry, we can't make it," Hermione said, a tight smile on her face. "We have plans."

"Well, if you change your mind…" Krissy pulled a pen out of her purse and took Malfoy's hand. "Here's my cell number."

Like Malfoy knew how to operate a cell phone. Unable to maintain a friendly attitude, Hermione faced the front of the line and took a really big bite out of her pretzel, so she wouldn't say anything stupid.

Thankfully, Malfoy had finished his conversation with Krissy and Michelle, so she didn't have to listen to any more discussions about the bestest ever clubs with their cool, cool music and really cheap alcohol for equally cheap girls.

"So what plans do we have after this?" he asked.

Huh? Right. Plans. She hadn't thought of that. Thankfully she was still working on that huge piece of pretzel, so it gave her a second to conjure an answer. Swallowing her bite, she said, "A movie."

"Which one?"

Um…

"We'll pick once we're back at my apartment."

"You sure you don't want to go to this club? It sounds like it could be fun."

"I'm not a clubbing kind of girl, but if you want to go, feel free." It didn't matter to her. Nope. Not one bit.

Malfoy ruffled the top of her hair, which he knew she hated. "I would only go if you went."

Take that, Krissy and Michelle! Not every guy out there was a complete and utter idiot! Hermione was so happy to discover that, she almost hugged Malfoy.

Happily munching on her pretzel, the time seemed to fly. Pretty soon, they were at the front of the line. One of the elves led them over to Santa, and Malfoy looked at Hermione expectantly.

He must not have been watching the eleven billion people that went before them. "You're supposed to sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas."

Realizing that Malfoy was going to do no such thing, Hermione pulled him forward.

"Come on, son. I don't bite," the man spoke in a cheerful baritone, perfectly befitting a mall Santa Claus.

When Malfoy still didn't move, Hermione took the initiative of sitting on one of Santa's knees. Malfoy stood to the side, gripping her hand tightly.

"So, little lady, is your boyfriend a mute?" Santa asked, smiling kindly at her.

"No, just difficult, and he's not my boyfriend."

"Well, I can guess what he'll be asking for this Christmas." Santa looked up at Malfoy, winking. "If you're real good, I might be able to throw in some mistletoe. Ho ho ho."

Malfoy squeezed her hand even tighter. Perhaps this was not a good idea. "Could we just take the picture please?" she asked the elf with the camera.

"Alright, on the count of three say cheese. 1. 2. 3."

"Cheese," Hermione said. Alone.

"Now you two try to be good. Naughty children don't get anything for Christmas."

"We'll try," Hermione mindlessly answered, walking toward the elf. He handed her the Polaroid, in exchange for her five pounds.

As they walked away, Hermione fanned the picture, waiting for the image to appear.

"What was that thing?" Malfoy asked.

"Santa?"

"No, I know who that was supposed to be. I'm talking about the one who handed you the picture."

"That was an elf."

Malfoy turned around to look again and laughed. "If muggles knew how ugly real elves were, I doubt they would include them in their Christmas festivities. And what's with those pointy shoes?"

The image finally showed up. Everything was perfect except, "Why aren't you smiling?" Hermione asked.

"I had no reason to."

Hermione hit him with the picture, laughing. "You spoil sport. You're lucky I don't make us go back there and take another picture."

Malfoy snatched the picture from her and examined it. "I don't see why you're complaining. I look perfectly fine."

"Except you're not smiling."

"I don't smile in pictures. You know that."

Hermione tried to get the picture back, but he held it behind him, just past her reach.

"Well, you should," she said, still trying to reclaim the photo, "Everyone looks better smiling."

Malfoy scoffed, looking at the picture once more. "Hardly. I happen to think I look distinguished. I suppose we'll just have to ask your mother what she thinks."

"We are _not_ showing that to my mom!" It would only encourage her, and her mother needed none of that.

"Of course we are. I'm sure she'll love it." Tucking the picture into his back pocket, he asked, "Where to next?"

"The mall's closing in five minutes. We should just head back. And you are not showing that to her."

"You let me pick tonight's movie, and we have a deal."

"Fine, but no horror movies. I hate those." It didn't matter that she had taken on monsters much scarier than anything a movie could depict. She hated all the blood and guts, and whenever they watched a movie like that, she always ended up with her face buried in his shoulder and her fingers gripping his as if her life depended on it.

"That wasn't part of the deal. Now come along. I'm feeling like vampires tonight."

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" she asked, hopefully.

"No. The problem with movies like that is they're too unrealistic. Might as well have vampires that sparkle. I'm thinking something along the lines of Blade. They're coming out with a sequel soon."

"I thought you weren't going to watch any more muggle movies."

"I'm not going to watch any more of _your _muggle movies. Really, Hermione, I'm beginning to think you don't listen to a word I say."

With a groan, Hermione followed Malfoy into what was sure to be a night full of screaming and hiding her face behind her hands.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review. =D**


	11. Hostile Hospital

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I'm so tired right now, I need to nap. But I will reply to the reviews you all were so lovely to send me for the last chapter when I wake up.

This one is actually only a one-parter. But it's pretty long.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Eight:**

**Hostile Hospital**

* * *

Hermione stared across the table, smiling at the handsome blond wizard. "So, Harry tells me you just started working as an Auror. How are you liking that?"

Her date, Spencer Lawson, smiled back, blue eyes sparkling as he leaned forward. He was a couple of years older than her, with the loveliest eyelashes she had ever seen. And he had been the one to ask her out! Not that Hermione had been looking or anything, but she still couldn't believe her luck. No one that looked like that had ever been interested in her.

"I've been in training for the past three years, so it's finally great to be out in the field, you know? The first mission was exhilarating, and it confirmed to me that I'm in the right line of work. For a while there, I had been questioning my career choice, so it was good to have that reassurance."

Yeah, that must be nice. She certainly hadn't found it at her job. Merlin, she hated it. Incompetent boss, rude coworkers, toiling in thankless obscurity without any meaningful results. She should quit, really she should, but that would be admitting failure. She wasn't ready to do that. Yet. Besides, she had nowhere else to work, and she didn't have the time to start job-hunting. Thanks to her job, of course.

Spencer must have noticed she was upset, because he smiled again, seemingly self-conscious. "But I'd hate to spend our time together talking about work. Tell me your interests."

His eyes bored into hers with an intensity that was a little frightening. She reached for her water, holding the chilled glass in her clammy palm. "Oh well…I like to read, and spend time with my friends. I own two cats, watch the occasional muggle movie…and that's about it, I'm afraid. I'm kind of boring really."

"I'd hardly call any woman who was involved in taking down Voldemort boring."

Hermione took a quick sip of water, trying not to blush. "Thank you."

"I hope this doesn't scare you off, but I just want to say again how relieved I am that you agreed to go to dinner with me. I can't tell you how long I've been working up the nerve to ask you out."

It was very flattering, and also hard to believe a word of it. But she wanted to; it made her feel…nice. "What made you decide to finally take the plunge?"

"Actually, it was Harry. I had held back because I thought you were dating Draco Malfoy." Spencer's face screwed up slightly, as if he had just smelled a troll.

"Why would you think that?"

"It's always in the papers. I just assumed-"

"You shouldn't. A word of advice, anything written by Rita Skeeter is full of lies."

Spencer smiled. "That's what Harry said. So are you and Malfoy more than enemies? Friends?"

Hermione nodded her head. "I know most people think he's a bit…difficult, but he's actually a great guy once you get to know him."

Spencer didn't look like he believed her. "I hear he's an absolute beast in the boardroom. Malfoy Industries has taken over at least five major companies in the year he's been in charge, and he's increased their profits by twenty percent. Though it looks a bit suspicious, if you know what I mean."

No, actually, she didn't. "It wouldn't surprise me. Malfoy was in the top five of his class. He's very bright and persuasive, and knows how to deal with those kinds of things. I'm sure the investors can sense that."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, Harry told me you two weren't dating, and I knew that once the other guys found that out, I wouldn't stand a chance. So I walked up to you that day in your office, and well, you pretty much know the rest. Now if you don't mind me asking, why did you agree?"

Because her mother wouldn't stop bugging her to start dating, and Hermione thought that this one dinner would finally get her off her back. Of course, her mother had been bugging her to date Malfoy, but Hermione was sure she'd find Spencer a decent substitute. However, she couldn't really tell him that.

"You seemed like a really nice guy." Which was true. And he was very good looking, which certainly hadn't hurt.

"Well, I hope I don't do anything to change your mind." Spencer looked down at the table again, shaking his head incredulously. "I still can't believe you said yes."

Hermione smiled again, at a loss as to how to respond. They'd already covered that. Twice. "…So, what do you like to do with your free time?"

"Dueling, broom racing, Quidditch and its variations, like swivenhodge, aingingein, quodpot, creaothceann. You know, the usual."

"Wait, isn't that last one banned?"

Spencer smiled, flashing a gleaming row of perfect teeth, "I'm a bit of what the muggles call an adrenaline junkie."

"But so many people have died playing that game. I mean, you're flying around trying to catch falling rocks and bludgers in a cauldron. Aren't you afraid you'll get hurt? Or hit your head?"

"I would think a girl like you would understand the appeal of danger."

Actually, she preferred to stay nice and safe at home in the company a good book. It wasn't like she had entered the wizarding world looking to engage in a war with Voldemort. It had just happened. She would go through it again, if she had to. But only if she had to.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I'm actually quite boring." Hermione giggled, slightly embarrassed. "I think most people would be surprised to know I'm actually afraid of flying."

Spencer reached across the table, touching her hand and setting off alarm bells. "Well, you're secret's safe with me." Thankfully, he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. He had very nice arms, no doubt the result of his many hours on the Quidditch pitch. Hermione tried not to let that affect her opinion of him.

"But I heard you rode on the back of a Thestral when you were in your fifth year. I've seen one of those things. They're scarier looking than any broom, that's for sure."

"It wasn't a pleasant experience, but we didn't really have any other choice. It's not something I plan on repeating."

"Maybe you just haven't gone flying with the right instructor. I could give you a lesson, if you like."

"I don't know."

"I promise I wouldn't let go of you for the world. You'd be absolutely safe."

Oh dear. He was cute, charming, and for whatever reason he was interested in her. Hermione couldn't help herself. She laughed.

Spencer arched an eyebrow, a confident smirk on his face, "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing. I'm just not used to…"

"A guy showing blatant interest in you?"

Hermione hid her face behind her hand. "Yes." No wonder Lavender and Parvati had always seemed so brainless. If Hermione had received this kind of attention in school, she wasn't sure she would have graduated first in her class. The attention was going straight to her head, though fortunately she was aware of that. This was only going to be a pleasant distraction from the terrible day she'd had at work. Nothing more.

Reaching for her glass of water, Hermione took a few gulps of the liquid, hoping her cheeks would stop burning. Now a little bit more composed she said, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" she said.

"Me giving you flying lessons."

"Right. Thanks for the offer, but I prefer to stay on the ground."

"If you change you're mind, you'll let me know, right?"

She was just about to answer when a large brown owl swooped in, dropping a letter next to her plate. It was Harry's owl, a beautiful successor to the dearly departed Hedwig.

"Hello there, Lucy," Hermione said, holding out a nut from her salad. Not taking the food, Lucy nudged the letter towards Hermione with her beak.

"Must be important," Spencer said.

Trepidation settling in her stomach, she tore open the letter as Lucy flew away.

_In hospital. Emergency. Please come at once._

Hermione stood to her feet, accidentally knocking over her chair. "I'm sorry, but I have to go to St. Mungo's."

"Is something wrong? Do you want me to go with you?"

"I'm not sure." Hermione could feel the knot growing in her stomach. She knew there had been a Quidditch game today. All sorts of horrible scenarios appeared in her head.

"Hermione, you look pale. At least let me escort you there."

Unable to speak, she just nodded.

Taking her by the elbow, Spencer led her out of the restaurant to the nearest apparition point. They appeared a few seconds later in an alleyway nearby St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Already feeling sick, the side-along apparition did not improve Hermione's condition and she was glad that Spencer was there. Mute, she followed him up the steps and watched as he spoke with the mannequin gatekeeper, gaining them access.

Hermione stared bewildered at the sight in front of her. The waiting room of St. Mungo's also served as an emergency room, and it was full of wizards and witches, literally overflowing. Most of them were sitting down or standing around, waiting for their turn to be seen, but every once in a while, someone would rush in with a very disturbing injury. Needless to say, it did not help Hermione's already overwrought nerves.

Not wanting to see anything more, she quickly walked up to the Welcome Witch's desk.

"Excuse me," she said.

The lady didn't seem to hear her. Not surprising, given how loud it was in the room. She tried again, making sure she would be heard. "Excuse me!"

Without looking up, the Welcome Witch pushed forward some parchment and a quill. "Please be seated and fill out the form."

"You don't understand, I'm not si—"

"Ma'am, fill out the form."

In no mood to waste time, Hermione slammed her hand down on the counter. That got the witch's attention. Finally receiving eye contact, Hermione said, "I'm looking for my friend. His name i-"

"Hermione?"

She spun around at the sound of that voice, the weight that had settled around her heart suddenly lifted. Harry was standing in the lobby, still wearing his game gear and holding two brooms. Without thinking, Hermione launched herself into his arms. "Oh thank Merlin, you're alright. I thought…" Well, it didn't matter what she had thought. Harry was alright, and that's all that mattered!

Harry glanced over at Spencer, gave him a slight nod, then looked back at her. "Actually, Hermione, it's Malfoy."

What?

Hermione swayed on her feet, eyes slightly unfocused. Harry reached out to her, steadying her with his hand. "Hermione?"

She thought she was going to throw up. "What happened?" she asked, voice trembling.

Harry looked away, and Hermione was just about to burst into tears when a loud voice, most likely magically amplified, filtered over the din of the waiting room, "Potter! Where are you and why does my head feel like it's been put in a vise?"

Merlin, she had never felt so relieved in all her life to hear that whinging voice. Hermione took off down the hall in a sprint, led by Malfoy's stream of curses.

As she approached, it registered that he was in a room on the ground floor, which was designated for Artifact Accidents. He must have just fallen off his broom.

Relieved but still agitated, she slowed down to walk, which allowed Harry and Spencer to catch up with her. "Hermione, wait," Harry said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She rounded on him, eyes lit with fury. He really needed to work on writing better messages. "What?!"

Harry held up his hands, trying to show he meant no harm. She was not having it.

"Nothing," Harry mumbled, hand now in his hair, green eyes searching the ground. "Just wanted to warn you. It looks worse than it actually is. So, uh, don't get too upset, OK?"

Hands on her hips, Hermione demanded, "What happened?"

"We were both going for the snitch, but one of the players thought it'd be funny to slam…give Malfoy a slight push, and er, Malfoy kind of flew into a post."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Who would do something like that?!"

Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy's voice came out, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I hurt my shoulder, not my knees! Get away from them, or I swear I will kick you in the teeth."

"You're going to have to speak up. I can't hear you." Hermione said.

Harry uncovered his mouth and tried again. "Saymisinigin."

Hermione's hands curled into fists. "Seamus?!" She should have known. He was such a hot-head and there certainly was no love lost between him and Malfoy. "Where is he? I'll kill him."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you, Hermione. It's not a big deal. Ask Spencer, stuff like this happens all the time on the pitch."

Hermione turned to Spencer, waiting for his answer. He nodded, shoulders raised apologetically. "It's true."

Hermione hated Quidditch! And all the stupid boys (and girls) who played it!

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Now remember, I said it looks much worse than it actually is…"

"Harry!"

"He dislocated his shoulder, broke a few fingers, has a black eye and a busted lip. And maybe some bruised ribs."

"What did Seamus do? Beat him with his broom?!"

"I already told you what happened."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. "You are all so…barbaric. It's disgusting."

"Don't feel too badly for Malfoy. He made sure to break Seamus's nose afterward. Besides, Malfoy was asking for it all day. All he did was yell, criticize, and insult everyone, while purposely crashing his broom into them. If Seamus hadn't skinned him, I probably would have done it myself."

Malfoy was highly competitive and wasn't exactly the nicest guy on the pitch, but that sounded a bit extreme, even for him. Usually he only went so far as trash-talking. "Why was he so upset?" Hermione asked.

Harry's eyebrows raised over the rims of his glasses, clearly not amused. He was actually looking at her as if this were her fault. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Fine. Let's go."

Hermione walked towards the room, but stopped as another acidic blast issued from Malfoy's lips. "I don't care how many years of training you've had. You're the sorriest excuse for a healer I've ever come across, and if you so much as lay a finger on me again, I will personally see to it that the only things you ever clean up again are the dishes at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "You're mad if you think there is any way I'm going back in there."

"Why not?"

"Between the pitch and the hospital, I've spent the last four hours with Malfoy." Harry thrust one of the brooms at her. "It's your turn."

Hermione punched him in the arm. Hard. "So that's why you said this was an emergency?! I thought you had been seriously injured…or worse." Lowering her voice and turning away so Spencer couldn't understand, she hissed, "And you knew I was on a date."

"How is that going, by the way?"

"That's none of your business."

"In that case," Harry turned to Spencer, a grin on his face. "Have fun you two. And give Malfoy my regards." Then he apparated away.

Stupid Auror privileges. He knew she wouldn't be able to follow him.

Turning to her date, Hermione said apologetically, "I should probably go in and check on Malfoy."

"I'll come with you."

"That's probably not such a good idea," she said.

As if to prove her right, Malfoy was heard once again. "What do you think you're doing?! Get that away from me. I'm not going to drink that vile concoction! I'm not go—" Malfoy's yelling became garbled and finally stopped, only to be followed by a mouthful of obscenities that would make even Peeves blush.

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked, walking closer to her. "He sounds pretty upset."

Hermione looked at him, slightly confused. Then it dawned on her. "You think he'd hurt me?"

"From what Harry said, it doesn't sound like it's out of the realm of possibility."

Hermione opened her mouth to inform Spencer that he was wrong, but just two mediwizards ran past them, entering Malfoy's room.

"Potter, get back in here and take these incompetent idiots into custody."

It was time to go in. Peering around the doorframe, Hermione said, "Hello?"

Malfoy looked like he was wrestling with mediwizards, while the healer was cowering in the corner of the room. The instant Malfoy saw her, he stopped struggling and smiled over at her. Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

He looked terrible. The right side of his face was one big bruise. The rest must have been hidden under his Quidditch clothes, but if it were anything like the mess on his face, she didn't want to see them.

As she walked towards his bed, the mediwizards scattered, looks of gratitude on their faces.

"Didn't expect you to show up here," Malfoy said, smiling oddly at her.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, propping his broom near the window.

Malfoy's grin was a tad too large. In fact, he almost looked a bit loopy. "Doesn't matter. Just glad you came." He seemed surprised at his own words and shook his head. Then he looked over her shoulder and his good cheer seemed to evaporate. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Spencer Lawson. I'm Hermione's-"

"Coworker," she chimed in. "Spencer works at the Ministry. As an Auror. With Harry."

Spencer walked up to Malfoy's cot, hand extended. "Nice to meet you, Malfoy. Heard al lot about you."

Malfoy looked at Spencer's hand, but didn't move. "You'll have to excuse me. Can't really shake at the moment. Healer's orders."

Considering Malfoy had been fending off three mediwizards and cursing the skill of his healer just seconds ago, Hermione doubted Spencer believed him. She knew she didn't.

The smile on Spencer's face was tight-lipped. "No worries, _mate_."

An awkward silence ensued, during which time Hermione observed the two wizards. They were both staring at each other as if they were facing off over a Quaffle. Seeing them side by side, she discovered that they looked an awful lot alike.

Malfoy finally broke the quiet. "I apologize for dragging Hermione away from your date."

Hermione's head snapped up. He knew! But how? She had most assuredly not told him about Spencer. Harry must have told him. Oh, he was going to get it.

Malfoy continued, "As it was, I had no idea Harry had informed her of my injuries. If I had known she was going to rush to my side, I would have told her not to come."

"No need for apologies. I'm sure there'll be plenty more dates to come," Spencer said.

Suddenly, Spencer's confidence didn't seem quite so charming. In was downright cocky, in fact. She hadn't even agreed to a second date, let alone "plenty more."

"Spencer, I'm going to be here for a while…you should probably head back home. I'd hate to inconvenience you anymore than I already have."

"Spending time with you isn't an inconvenience. Just say the word, and I'll stay," he said.

"It's alright." Hermione turned away, not wanting Malfoy to see her face. "It was nice having dinner with you."

"We should do it again," he said, smiling over her hand, before dropping a kiss on her fingers. "I'll owl you later. And don't forget what I said about those flying lessons."

There was no way she was going flying with him, but she couldn't say that in front of Malfoy. It would only embarrass Spencer. So she settled on, "Alright. Goodbye."

As soon as Spencer left the room, Malfoy said, "You hate flying."

"I know. I'm not actually going to go, I just didn't want to say it in person."

Malfoy laughed, the scowl disappearing from his face. "Ever the brave Gryffindor."

"I was being _polite_."

"I take it you won't be seeing him again," he asked, picking some lint off his jersey.

"Probably not. Well, at least not in an out-of-work capacity. Spencer's nice and everything, but I don't really have any time to date. I shouldn't have even said yes in the first place. And don't jump on my case about being a slave to my job. I get that enough from my mother."

Malfoy stared out the window. "You won't hear any argument from me."

Her friend seemingly settled, Hermione went to speak with the Healer, who was still standing in the far corner of the room, talking with the remaining mediwizard.

"Hello. How are you?" Hermione politely asked.

A small woman in lime green robes smiled wearily at her. She had a mop of curly black hair that overpowered the delicate features of her face, except for her eyes, which were the most vivid shade of purple Hermione had ever seen. "Ah, Miss Granger, pleasure to meet you. Just wish it had been under better circumstances."

Hermione laughed uneasily. "I'm sorry, but I don't know your names."

The woman said to call her Violet, while the mediwizard, a stocky bloke with bright red hair and equally bright blue eyes, informed Hermione that his name was Al. Short for Alouicious.

"Do you know how much longer we need to stay?" she asked.

"We've taken care of everything except the bruise on his face, which he wouldn't let us touch," said Violet with a sigh. "I'm advising that he stay overnight. His body took quite a beating, and he needs plenty of rest."

"Out of curiosity, what potions did you use to treat him?" Hermione asked.

"Interested in becoming a Healer?" Violet asked.

"No. But I'm fascinated with the potions part. I really don't think I'd have the stomach or patience to deal with all the injured wizards and witches."

"No kidding," Al said. "That Malfoy was a real treat. I haven't had a patient that bad in years."

"He's been a bit…out of sorts," she peered over her shoulder to find Malfoy smiling at something outside his window, "though he seems to have quieted down." Thankfully.

Violet and Al shared a glance, and the mediwizard coughed, hiding a smile behind his hand.

Clearly, there was something going on. "What?" Hermione asked, wanting in on the secret.

"Well, it might have to do with the last potion we gave him," Violet said, her purple eyes sparkling mischievously.

Curious, Hermione asked, "Which one was it?"

Al leaned in conspiratorially, pulling a yellow vial from his robes. It had three Es inscribed in the glass. "It's actually an elixir. Designed to induce euphoria."

Hermione's brows knitted in confusion. "Wouldn't a simple Silencio have been sufficient to quiet him?"

"Yes, but not as funny," Al said.

Violet looked a little guilty, adding, "Plus Silencio doesn't have any anesthetic and analgesic effects, so it can't deal with the pain. Eustace's Euphoria Elixir is used much in the same way muggle doctors used nitrous oxide."

Laughing gas.

How very interesting.

"Are there any side effects?" Hermione asked.

"It varies from wizard to wizard, but sometimes there is singing and nose-pulling," Violet answered, glancing at her wristwatch. "If you stick around, you'll find out in about…oh, five minutes. Though I don't think he will remember any of it. Most don't."

Hermione began chuckling, picturing a singing Malfoy. Come to think of it, she hadn't ever heard him sing. Not even in fifth year when "Weasley is Our King" rang out over the Quidditch pitch. .

"Well, we'll leave you to each other. Call us if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you for all your help."

Once Violet and Al had shut the door behind them, Hermione walked over to Malfoy's bedside, shaking her head. "One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed playing that ridiculous game."

Malfoy continued staring out the window. He had a dreamy faraway look she had come to associate with another gray-eyed blonde, Luna Lovegood. "Would you cry?" he asked, his tone light and airy.

What a horrible question. Hermione didn't even want to think about what she would do if he died. So she didn't. Instead, she headed towards the window, wondering what was causing Malfoy to look so happy.

There was nothing.

She could tell the elixir was starting to kick in. "What are you smiling about?" she asked, voice gentle.

"The sunshine."

Hermione peered out the window again. It was early February, and the sky was gray with cloud. What little of the sun that could be seen was disappearing beyond the London skyline as night hastily approached. She had no idea what he was talking about, but played along, nodding her head. "Yes, the sunshine is very nice."

"Not nice," Malfoy said. "Beautiful."

"Is it now?" Hermione asked. Who knew that Malfoy, former Death Eater, would get chuffed about something as sweet and innocent as sunlight? If only Ron and Harry were here. Trying not to laugh, she said, "Tell me, is it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

"Yes. The most beautiful ever."

"You do know that you can't literally see the sunshine, don't you? You'd go blind."

She expected a lecture about technicalities and uncalled for insolence, but Malfoy just shook his head, smiling. Definitely the work of the elixir. "Not me. I can see."

"And why is that?"

"Because she lets me. But only sometimes. When she's not hiding behind the clouds."

That made absolutely no sense, but thanks to Luna, she was used to conversations like this. "That's nice," Hermione said.

Trying to sit up, Malfoy fell back on the bed with a groan, but was still smiling. "Bugger. That hurt."

Hermione rushed to his side. "What are you doing?! Don't try to get up, you'll just aggravate your injuries." Her voice was snappish and shrill, but really, he should have known better.

He held up his finger, putting it to her lips. "Shhhh," he said, quietly. "You're keeping the sunshine away." For a second he just stared at her mouth, lost in wonder, but then he began pressing down on the pillows of flesh over and over, like they were some kind of spring.

His gray eyes were wide and dewy, like that of a little child. It was adorable. Hermione suppressed a smile, gently removing his finger. "OK," she whispered. "What should I do to bring the sunshine back?"

Malfoy rubbed his face, blinking his eyes. "I feel funny. Why do I feel funny, Hermione?"

"It's the elixir they gave you."

He nodded repeatedly, the movement growing less and less controlled with each bob of his head. He finally careened into her side, smiling into her neck. "Whoops."

"Really, Malfoy. You need to be more careful. That's your bad shoulder."

"I don't like it when you call me that," he said, his voice soft even in reprimand. He reminded her of Widdershins after a saucer of warm milk, pliant and drowsy. Bringing her hand up to his head, she brushed the hair that had fallen into his eyes. She tried not to cringe as her fingers came in contact with his bruised skin.

"I'm sorry. It just slipped out. I won't do it again," she said.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He smiled at her, petting her hand. "Good, because my name is Draco." And then, he frowned, though he seemed puzzled by the unhappiness. "Why do you never call me that? I've asked you to before."

Technically, she had gone out of her way not to say Draco _or_ Malfoy since they had agreed to be friends. She had never felt comfortable calling him by his first name, and if she persisted in calling him by his last name, she knew he would notice. Too bad that a drugged up Malfoy seemed to catch on.

"Now say my name," he said.

"Maybe later. I think you need some sleep."

Malfoy laughed. "Come on. Say it! You'll like it." It was as if he were playing some game, and any second she expected him to start clapping his hands like a little boy. Or one of those toy monkeys with a miniature cymbal.

Tired of standing, Hermione sat down on the bed next to him.

"Alright…" She paused, trying to form the word on her lips. She hardly ever called him that in her mind, and she worried that it would sound odd. "Dray-co."

He closed his eyes, resting his head against his pillow. "I like that."

Somehow his hand found hers, and he squeezed it lightly. "I think you should say it again."

For someone who was supposed to be euphoric, he had an odd way of showing it. She had expected him to be laughing hysterically at whatever silly little jokes he made. But he hadn't made any jokes, and he was lying there, seemingly on the verge of sleep. "I don't know why you'd want me to, but alright." It wasn't like he was going to remember this anyway. "Are you tired, Draco? Maybe I should go and let you sleep."

His eyes opened, bright and alert and sparkling. "No. Stay. I'm just relaxing…taking in the sunshine."

On a cloudy London evening in a hospital room? His reaction to the elixir must have been hallucinations.

Hermione giggled. Malfoy was high.

He patted the space beside him. "You should relax too. You're always uptight."

Hermione frowned. That was not true, but it was pointless to argue with a Malfoy inebriated with elixir. Exhausted from the long day of work, nerve-wracking date, and fear of rushing to the hospital, Hermione crawled into the bed. She sat with her back upright against the pillows and her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. Kicking off her shoes, she sighed, wiggling her toes.

"Harry told me you broke Seamus's nose. That wasn't very nice," she said.

His eyes drifted shut again, and a few seconds later, he was humming.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you do it? Why were you so upset?"

Malfoy waved his hands in the air, as if he were conducting a symphony. "Doesn't matter. It won't happen again. I'm better now."

Turning her head to look at him, she winced again at the sight of his face. Raising her hand, she carefully traced the line of his jaw, admiring the variations of violet that comprised his bruise. "You don't look better. Does it still hurt?"

"Stop," he said, leaning into her palm. "It tickles."

Well, that answered that question. If he could feel any pain, he certainly wouldn't have pressed his face against her hand. Hermione pulled away, sliding down the bed to rest her head on the pillows. But only for a few seconds. She needed to go home soon.

Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he was leaning over her, blocking out the light of the hospital room.

"Did you know you have freckles?" He brushed his finger across the bridge of her nose, forcing her to open her eyes. "Right there."

"Yes, I know. I'm actually quite familiar with my face. I've been looking at it in the mirror these past twenty years."

"Twenty years? How come I didn't see them until today? Were you hiding them?"

"No, but I wish I could. They look funny, and I want them to go away."

Malfoy covered her nose with his hand. This was most likely the nose-tweaking the healer had spoken about. Thankfully, it was not quite so painful as that. It was, however, kind of annoying and just a little embarrassing. For both of them. Of course, he was the one who wouldn't remember any of this. She'd have to live with her freckles for the rest of her life.

"You're going to have to move your hand. I can't breathe," she said.

Malfoy instantly released her nose, but then he leaned down closer, inspecting the tiny sun spots on her face. Very quietly, he whispered, "I'm sorry, freckles. And I'm sorry that Hermione doesn't like you, but don't tell her I told you that. She doesn't like people thinking badly of her."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"You look like a bunny when you do that," he said, tapping his index finger against the button of her nose. "A bunny with freckles."

"Stop looking at my freckles!" she cried, ducking her head and burying it in his shoulder.

"But I like them," he said. "And if you let them, I think they would like me too."

He sounded so serious, so earnest, Hermione burst out laughing, shaking against his side.

"What's so funny?" he said, sounding slightly dazed and confused.

Hermione looked back at him. "You!"

Out of nowhere, Malfoy started beaming. "I am, aren't I?"

Hermione turned over, facing away from Malfoy. If she kept watching him, she'd never stop laughing. "You know, you're much nicer when you're high."

"And you're much nicer when you're happy. You should be happy."

"I am happy."

"For now."

Confused, she turned back over. "Why don't you think I'm happy?"

"I think I'm tired now. Good night." Malfoy closed his eyes. It reminded her of a little child trying to fool their parent into thinking they were actually asleep when they really weren't. And it was just as successful.

Hermione waited a few seconds, and sure enough, Malfoy popped open one of his eyes to see if she was watching him.

"Caught you. Now you have to tell me," she said.

"Are you sure those are the rules?"

"Yes, quite sure. Now tell me, or I'll make my freckles disappear."

That seemed to do the trick.

"You won't get mad at me, will you?" he said.

"No, I won't."

"Alright. It's your job. You don't like it."

That was obvious. She should have known that was what he was going to say. "Well, yeah, but most people don't like their jobs."

"_I_ like my job."

"Not everyone can be as happy as you. Or own their own company and be their own boss."

"Do you want to be your own boss?"

"Eventually, yes, but I have to work my way up the ladder, just like everyone else. Well, everyone but you."

"I can make you a boss."

Hermione laughed. "No you can't." She probably still had another five years of working under her pearl of a boss, Mr. Scholes. Just thinking about being trapped with him and the other people in her department for the next half decade made her depressed.

"Yes, I can."

"Don't worry, Draco. I can take care of myself. And I haven't even been there a year yet. I'm sure it will get better." She was glad Malfoy was so out of it. Even she didn't believe her own words.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his chest and patting her head, like she was a baby or a small pet. "It will be alright. I'll fix it. Now go to sleep. I'm tired."

Only for a few minutes, she told herself, before closing her eyes.

Some time later, Hermione's eyes began fluttering open, a light breeze blowing delicately on the back of her neck, gently pulling her from sleep.

She felt warm all over, but not in a way that was unpleasant. More like she had been taking a nap outside on a blanket on a warm spring day.

Opening her eyes more fully, she realized that it was not spring and she was not in the park, enjoying the kisses of a benevolent star. It was still winter, and day had long given way to night. There was just enough light from the moon for her to realize she was lying in a hospital room with Draco Malfoy sleeping at her back.

She closed her eyes again, debating whether to get up. She felt boneless, drained of all tension and anxiety, and to move from the bed would be stepping back into the real world. It reminded her of those cold winter days when she was a child, snuggled in her comforter, beckoned by her mom to leave the warmth of her cocoon and get ready for school. Now, as then, she did not want to leave.

But it was late, and this wasn't her own bed, and she really had no business being here. Plus, she had to go to work tomorrow and didn't have a change of clothes here.

That settled it.

Shifting slightly, she tried to remove Malfoy's arm, which was resting over her stomach. Her movements were purposefully slow and careful; she did not want to wake him.

She was almost finished when his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer into his chest. "Stop moving and go back to sleep," he murmured in her ear. His voice was low, a gentle rumble against her back, coaxing her to return to the land of nod.

"I have to work tomorrow," she said.

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes."

"That's inhumane. You should quit."

Hermione yawned. "Maybe."

"And you should stay here."

"Five more minutes. Then I really have to go."

"OK. Five more minutes," he said, and she closed her eyes.

It was light outside when she opened them again.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. "Hermione, time to get up."

Burying her head under a pillow, Hermione groaned. "Five more minutes, please mom."

Malfoy chuckled. "Come on, pumpkin. You need to get ready for work."

Hermione turned over in the bed, lolling her head over to the voice that in no way sounded like her mother's. Opening one eye, she glared at him. "No one calls me pumpkin but my mom."

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?" He ruffled her air, earning a smack on his chest. The effects of the elixir had clearly worn off. He was back to his typical inconsiderate self.

"Are you always this cranky when you wake up in the morning?" he said.

"Only when I'm waking up with you," Hermione said, gasping the second she realized what had come out of her mouth. This was why she shouldn't have stayed the night. He was going to twist what had been an innocent (and extremely restful) nap into cheeky innuendo and teasing looks. Hermione groaned. "You know I didn't mean it _that_ way."

"I suppose I should do something about that. Wouldn't want the Prophet finding out Hermione Granger leaves my bed in a bad mood. It would ruin my rep."

"Shut up. You have no rep, and you shouldn't say things like that to me."

"You're right, I probably shouldn't. Bet your dad wouldn't like it." Malfoy got out of bed, and dragged her with him. "Come on. Let's get my discharge papers, so we can leave."

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Seven. What time do you have to be at work?"

"Nine."

"I'll take you to breakfast. My treat for you nursing me back to health."

Hermione snorted. "I did no such thing. In fact, you should be treating your Healer and Mediwizards to some apologies. You were awful."

"I'll send them some flowers with my condolences. Now let's go, I'm starving."

Hermione looked down at her clothes, then at him. How he managed to look as fresh as a daisy while she looked like something Crookshanks had dragged through the kitty door was beyond her. It wasn't fair. "I can't go out like this. I look terrible."

"How can you say that? You are as bright and resplendent as the dawn," he said, playing with her hair, which was most likely shooting out like rays from her head. He only stopped when she hit him in his gut. "Ooof. Though you need to work on your disposition. I would hardly call it sunny."

"Ha ha. Very funny. We're stopping by my flat so I can change," Hermione said, stomping out the door.

Malfoy gathered up his broom, following close at her heels. "Alright, but if you take longer than ten minutes, I'm leaving you."

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**A./N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	12. Carnivorous Carnival, Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So, this title probably doesn't fit so well, but I thought carnival = party. Anyhoo...on with the show.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Nine:**

**Carnivorous Carnival, Part One**

* * *

"Come on, Hermione. You look great!" Ginny said, trying to dislodge her friend from her place in front of the mirror.

"You think so? I'm not sure." Hermione said, staring at her reflection unhappily. "I feel so…uncovered."

"That's what happens when you don't wear robes that go up to your neck and down to your ankles. Trust me, you look fine."

Unconvinced, Hermione started walking over to her closet. "Maybe I should wear my old dress robes. These look so much like muggle clothing, I'm not sure his parents will like that."

Ginny rolled her bright blue eyes, grabbing Hermione by the wrist and pulling her away from the closet full of sensible and sturdy clothing. "Then you'll politely inform them that you purchased them at Twilfitt and Tatting's before I hex them for being such pure-blooded snobs."

"Ginny, you promised to be on your best behavior."

The red-head flopped down on Hermione's bed, green robes billowing around her. "Since when do you care what the Malfoys think?"

"I don't."

"Then stop using them as an excuse to hide under mountains of unnecessary fabric. I'm sure Narcissa will approve anyway. You are, after all, wearing the latest in fashion." Under her breath, she muttered, "And you're her future daughter-in-law."

"Don't think I didn't hear that last comment. I'm just choosing to ignore it."

Ginny sighed, shaking her head. "That's your problem, Hermione. You ignore the obvious, like how gorgeous you look in that dress."

Hermione knew it had been a mistake to bring Ginny along to go dress shopping. The red-headed witch was used to wearing daring clothing and seemed to think everyone should be equally comfortable in revealing frocks. How Ginny had convinced her to buy this outfit, she would never know.

Hermione slowly spun in front of the mirror, checking out her robes from all sides. The delicate material skirted above the tops of her knees, floating airily in folds of gossamer. The fabric was black, and yet prismatic. When Hermione stood still, it looked as inky as a sky without moon and stars, but whenever she moved the light seemed to catch it at all angles, rendering the dress as shimmery as an oil slick or iridescent as an opal. It cinched in at her waist, where intricate silver stitching weaved and danced in elaborate patterns. Hermione was straight, rather like a bean pole, and the silver filigree actually gave her the appearance of having a figure. And of course there was the daring dip, both at her chest and back. The black against the pale of her skin made for a startling contrast, which Ginny had somehow persuaded her was a good thing.

It really was a beautiful robe, but entirely too fancy for someone like Hermione. She was old books and parchment and quills and comfy sweats. This dress seemed designed for someone more… well, just more. It was so different from her usual clothing, she was certain the others in attendance would instantly notice the difference.

"Everyone will think I'm trying too hard. That I'm a little girl playing dress up."

"Only a catty woman would think that, and I guarantee you the men won't be caring about that. Certainly not the one whose opinions you care about."

"The only person's opinion I care about right now is my own." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her non-existence cleavage. "Ginny, I really think I should wear something else. I feel…funny."

"Should have gotten that bust enhancing spell put in the robes, like I said."

"I want to look pretty, not like a tart."

"And you succeeded." Ginny laughed. "If you think you look like a tart, I should take you clubbing with the girls on my team. Next to them, you look positively matronly."

Hermione was still not convinced, not that Ginny seemed to care. Her friend rolled over on the bed, her head and red hair hanging upside down over the edge of the mattress. "So, what's going on between you and Malfoy?"

"Nothing.

"You spend more time with him than I do with Harry."

"You live in Wales. Of course I see Malfoy more than you see Harry."

"OK, let's try this another way. Malfoy likes you."

Hermione glared at Ginny through the mirror. "No, he does not."

Ginny shot up on the bed, crossing her feet under her dress, which thankfully had an anti-wrinkle spell on it. "Dear, sweet, Hermione, are you really that dense?"

"I'll have you know I'm the brightest witch of my generation." Having been dubbed that on her Chocolate Frog trading card a month ago, Hermione found it was a title that came in handy. She used it often in arguments with her friends. They, however, did not seem so impressed.

"Maybe when it comes to spells and potions, but you must be the stupidest girl I know when it comes to guys."

"Gee, thanks, Ginny."

"It's called tough love. Now, I can understand that you think your relationship is purely platonic. You are just that innocent and naïve and insecure. But there is no way Malfoy is in this to just be friends with you. What guy spends hour after hour with a girl without any kind of expectation that they will eventually date? No one!"

"That's exactly what Harry and I do."

"What you _did. _In grade school. Now you are busy with work, and I bet you don't spend as much time together."

"Well, that's because we've both been busy."

"And yet you and Malfoy seem to make time for each other."

"Ginny, I know what it might look like, but he would never like me."

"What kind of response is that? First, it's wrong, and second, why aren't your protesting that you don't like him?"

"Fine, I don't like Malfoy that way."

"Too late." Ginny jumped off the bed and stood behind Hermione in the mirror. Taking Hermione's chin in her hands, she said, "Look at yourself! Why wouldn't Malfoy want this? Why wouldn't any guy want this?"

Hermione looked at their reflection, her cheeks smooshed in Ginny's hands. "Pwenty erf weesons. No stawp fis. If hurs."

"If I weren't worried about messing up your hair, I would smack the back of your head." Ginny took a step away, while Hermione massaged her still hurting cheeks.

Ginny paced the room, while Hermione watched in amusement, putting on her coat. After a minute or so, the red head stopped in front of her friend. To Hermione's surprise, she looked about to cry. "Really, Hermione, I wish you would realize how wonderful a girl you are, and how any guy would be more than happy to be with you."

Hermione laughed. "Oh Ginny, that's sweet of you, but you're being overdramatic. I'm perfectly fine with how things are. Not every girl can have guys eating out of their hands like you. I reconciled myself to being the plain, sturdy, reliable one a long time ago."

Ginny threw up her hands and screamed. "Would you stop being such an idiot?! You are not plain. You are not boring. And Malfoy is in love with you!"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "Let's say for one second I believed this insanity, why do you think that? You aren't even around to see Malfoy interact with me."

"Harry tells me things. And if Harry sees things and you don't, you know it's bad."

"Like what things?"

"Like how Malfoy watches muggle movies with you even though he hates every last one of them. Like how he doesn't date anyone even though he could probably choose almost any girl he wanted. Like how Malfoy almost killed everyone on the pitch the day he found out you were on a date with another guy. Like how Malfoy planned this whole party for you. Like how he created that whole foundation for you because you hate your job so much and are just too chicken to quit it. Do I need to keep going?"

"Those aren't good examples. Malfoy actually likes horror movies-"

"Not true. Hates them. Ask Harr-"

"He doesn't date anyone because he's too busy-"

"Seeing you-"

"Malfoy _always_ wants to kill everyone while he's playing Quidditch-

"Maybe you have a point there, but-"

"He did _not_ plan this whole party for me. It's for his parents-"

"Since when do his parents care for magical creatures? This is the same family that made their house elves iron their own ears, that tried to have Buckbeak put to death! Do you even realize how difficult it was to arrange this party at Malfoy Manor? There is no way the Malfoys would have gone through all that trouble just to have a party celebrating creatures they could _not_ care less about."

"It couldn't have been that hard."

Ginny shook her head, laughing mirthlessly. "You don't get it, do you? Malfoy went to Harry, _Harry, _and asked him to speak with Kingsley, just so the Ministry would allow him to have any kind of event at Malfoy Manor. And then, Malfoy paid for Harry and a group of aurors to go and sweep the place not one, not two, but three times just to get Kingsley to even think about agreeing to the party."

"Malfoy did all that?" Hermione almost laughed. She'd never seen him work that hard in all his life. It must have killed him.

Ginny dropped her arms to her side in disbelief. "YES!"

"Well, you know Malfoy. He has to be the best at everything and he isn't content till everyone else knows he's the best too. This is just his way of announcing to the world that the Malfoys are back. And he really does want to change his family's image. What better way could there be than establishing a foundation that focuses on improving the quality of life for current and future muggleborns, squibs, and other disenfranchised beings and creatures in the wizarding community?"

The whole time Hermione spoke, Ginny was shaking her head. Maybe it was time for a different approach. Otherwise she thought Ginny's head would explode.

"Alright, Ginny, I admit it. I would like to have a boyfriend. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want what you and Harry have. I do. Sometimes I want it so much I feel like crying, or I actually do. But let's be realistic. It's not going to be Malfoy. I haven't even entertained the thought of liking him, because he would never, ever, ever like me back, and I'd like to keep it that way. Whatever we have, it works. He's a great friend, and I like spending time with him. But that's it, and that's OK. I'm only twenty year old. I might not have met the right guy for me, but there is plenty of time. And even if I end up single for the rest of my life, that isn't the end of the world. Look at Professor McGonagall; she's headmaster of Hogwarts and has influenced so many lives for the good. If I could live a life like that, I would be happy."

Ginny grabbed Hermione's wrist. "I give up. Let's go. It's almost seven, and Harry is probably waiting for us."

And with that, they apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Harry was standing there, waiting for them, looking uncomfortable in his dress robes. "'Bout time you two showed up. I was beginning to think you ditched me."

Ginny bounded over to him, kissing him lightly on the lips. "I would have at least owled if we had decided to ditch you."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Anything for you, love."

Hermione watched as Ginny played with Harry's tie and straightened his hair. She could tell her friend was up to something. "Harry, can I ask you a quick question?"

"Uh, sure." He fumbled with his tie, which had been pulled a little bit too tightly by Ginny.

"Do you think Malfoy likes Hermione?" Ginny asked, smiling sweetly at Hermione.

"I thought you said you gave up." Hermione said, really starting to get annoyed.

"I never give up."

Harry backed away from Ginny, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. "I refuse to get involved in this. Who Malfoy and Hermione like is their business. I'm neutral."

It wasn't exactly the defense she had wanted, but Hermione would take it. "Thank you, Harry. Now if you could just get your nosy girlfriend to mind her own business, everything would be perfect."

"Like I said, I'm neutral." And then Harry walked away, with the two girls trailing after him, glaring daggers at each other.

Too busy shooting death rays at each other, the girls almost didn't see when Harry stopped abruptly at the gate. "How are we supposed to get in?" He pressed his hands against the gate, but it didn't budge.

"Malfoy didn't say." Taking out her wand, she tapped it on the gate. That didn't work, not that she had expected it to. She considered sending a message, then realized her hand was passing through the gates, as if the metal was now smoke.

Ginny laughed. "So you have permissions to enter Malfoy Manor. I wonder how many other people have that."

"I wouldn't know," Hermione snapped.

"Well, don't stand there. Go through and get Malfoy."

Just then a house elf apparated in front of them, opening the gate. Bowing low to the ground, the brownish-looking creature said, "Master Draco wants Lulu to tell you he waits in the hall."

"Thank you, Lulu," Hermione said, pleasantly surprised at the elf's appearance. She was wearing a tiny dress, much different from the dish rags she was accustomed to seeing house elves wear.

The three followed Lulu at a distance. She could see Harry trying not to laugh as he whispered, "What's she wearing on her head?

"It looks like a hat. I wonder if Narcissa gave them money and forced them to buy themselves clothes at a children's shop." Hermione said. That didn't seem too farfetched for Mrs. Malfoy. Wouldn't want the elves to look disgraceful, especially if they were brining guests into the manor.

"That's actually kind of cute," Ginny said.

Turning around a corner, the stately home came into view. There was a large fountain that dominated the front lawn, which was speckled with beautiful white statues and trees that were lit up with white lights. It looked like something out of a Jane Austen movie, except on closer inspection the statues were actually nymphs walking around, singing whimsical arias perfect for the warm spring night. And the white lights were actually fairies in constant motion, darting over tree and fountain and grass, the light tinkling of laughter following in their wake. And of course there were the albino peacocks.

Ginny let out a low whistle. "Can you imagine living here? It's gorgeous!"

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, stunned every few seconds by a new decoration of exquisite craftsmanship and beauty.

As they continued walking the grounds, Hermione could not help but recall the last time she had been here. And neither, it seemed, could Harry.

"Are you sure you'll be alright going back there?" he asked.

"It looks so different, it doesn't even seem like the same place. Malfoy told me they had completely redone the interior of the house, and burned everything that Voldemort had touched, which was pretty much everything. So yeah, I think I'll be fine. You?"

"Yeah, but I've been here a few times before due to work, so it's not that much of a shock anymore."

Hermione nodded her head. "If you had told me even a year ago I would willingly be coming to Malfoy Manor for a party, I would have taken you to St. Mungo's and had your head examined. Can you believe how much has changed? How much we have changed?"

"How much Malfoy has changed," Ginny piped in. "Hermione, when you two get married, you have to invite us here."

"Ginny, I know you find this amusing, but could you please stop with the comments. I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

"And what idea might that be?"

Hermione shut her eyes, hoping Malfoy hadn't heard what Ginny had been saying. Trying not to grimace, she turned around, as the house elf disapparated away.

"Hi, Draco!" Ginny said, brightly. "We were just discussing how beautiful your place looks."

"I will have to pass your compliments to my mother. She's the one responsible for the way the house looks."

There was an awkward pause, which was broken by Ginny. Naturally. "Let's go, Harry. I can see when we're not wanted." Winking at Malfoy, she pulled her boyfriend, who was looking apologetically at Hermione over his shoulder, towards the front entrance.

Why was Hermione friends with her again?

Malfoy offered her his arm, and she slipped her hand into his elbow, still in shock from her friends' abrupt departure. He didn't even seem to notice.

"So have you considered my proposition?" he asked.

"What proposition?"

"To head the Malfoy Foundation."

"I told you I needed more time to think about it."

"Take all the time you need, but just so you know, you are no longer allowed to complain to me about your job."

"But you're my friend. That's what friends do."

"If you work for me, you can complain about your boss all you like."

"But you would be my boss."

"And what's wrong with that? It's not like you have any problem pointing out my faults. And you won't even have to travel very far to do it, because your office will be right next to mine. I'd more than quadruple the pitiful pittance you're receiving at the ministry, and you'd actually be working on projects of your choosing, where you'd see nearly instantaneous results. Your boss would respect you, and you could fire anyone who so much as looked at your sideways. You would be stupid not to accept."

He was right, but it sounded too good to be true. She needed to think about it some more. "I'll let you know within the week, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that. And I won't take no for an answer."

"You can't threaten me." Really, after being friends with him for almost six months, she knew he couldn't get her to do anything she didn't want to. And he knew it too.

"Say yes, and I won't have to."

"We'll see."

They had now reached the front entrance, and Malfoy ushered her into a well lit hall. Turning towards her, he looked down, smiling at her floor length coat. "Well don't you look positively dowdy. If you agree to work with me, we'll need to discuss your wardrobe."

"Thank you, _Draco_. You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"Come on, let's see your outfit."

Hermione gripped her cloak, hugging her arms tightly about herself. "No."

"I could just perform a vanishing charm, but that would be ungentlemanly." His lips turned up at one corner, and there was the glint that Hermione associated with trouble. "And of course, there is the possibility that your outer robe wouldn't be the only thing that disappeared."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"Fine!" Already blushing, Hermione started taking off her coat. Before she got far, Malfoy was at her back, easing the frock off her shoulders.

When it was off, she stood there feeling positively naked, and he didn't say anything. Unable to take the silence, she started babbling, "I know it's not what I usually wear. Ginny told me to buy it, but I know I shouldn't have, and I wanted to change into something else, but she wouldn't let me. And you know how strong she is, since she plays Quidditch all the time. I didn't really stand a chance. She looks innocent, but really, she is nothing more than a big bully. She threate-"

His hands drifted down her arms, effectively silencing her. He slowly turned her around, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the disapproving or worse, disgusted, look he was sure to give her. "Please don't make fun of me. I really did want to change into something else," she said, forlornly.

With her eyes closed, she couldn't be sure, but she thought his hand was traveling towards her temple, probably to her hair. Her shoulders caved in reflexively, and her hand whipped up to her hair, sure she had ruined it somewhere between her flat and Malfoy Manor.

"You look…" His voice sounded strangled, probably from stifling a laugh. Was it really that bad? She was going to kill Ginny! "You look-"

"Absolutely divine, my dear!"

Hermione opened her eyes at the sound of a woman's voice, meeting the serious gaze of her friend's. There was an intensity there that she didn't normally associate with him unless he was focused on Quiddith or his work; it seemed completely out of place at a party. Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, she tore her gaze away from Malfoy's.

Narcissa drifted over, looking absolutely beautiful in a mint green gown. "Hermione, you are a vision. I have never seen you look lovelier. And your figure is so graceful and pleasing. And your hair! No wonder my son is speechless." Narcissa looked at Malfoy expectantly, her light eyebrows arched primly. "Isn't she beautiful, Draco?"

Malfoy took a step back, letting go of her arms. He inclined his head in a nod of confirmation. When compared with his mother's effusive praise, it was quite telling. Hermione told herself she shouldn't have expected anything else, and though it hurt a little, Hermione was a trooper. She just smiled as Narcissa pulled her into the lightest of hugs. It was like being embraced by ether.

Andromeda walked over then, another beautiful Black to add to the two standing before her. "Hello, Hermione. You look stunning, as I knew you would. And your outfit matches with Draco's. Did you plan that?"

Hermione glanced over at Malfoy. She hadn't even noticed what he was wearing, but sure enough, he was wearing a black suit. His shirt was black too, though his tie seemed to be made of the same material as her dress. It looked very nice on him.

"No. It's just a coincidence," Malfoy said.

Narcissa laughed, and it was like a chorus of bells. "There is no such thing as coincidence. You two look perfect together."

Hermione flicked her gaze over to Andromeda and saw that the woman seemed as convinced of this as Narcissa. Mrs. Tonks nodded, a thoughtful smile on her lips. "Yes, perfect."

They all stood there for a few seconds, no one saying anything. Finally Malfoy cleared his throat, and that seemed to put Narcissa into action. "Well, you should probably go in." His mother looked away, her once bright blue eyes clouded. "I must apologize for the state of this party."

"How could you possibly say that? Your home looks beautiful, like something from a fairytale," Hermione said, disbelieving how Narcissa could be upset.

That didn't seem to appease Narcissa, but she said, "That's kind of you to say, even if it isn't true."

Andromeda must have noticed how confused Hermione felt. "Don't worry, Hermione, you are not insane. My sister has the greatest expectations for all her parties. What most people would consider ostentatious and opulent, she would think plain and boring. And what you consider a success, she thinks a failure."

"Really, Narcissa, it is a beautiful party. I've never been to a better one, and I haven't even entered the ballroom."

Narcissa grabbed Hermione's hand, squeezing her fingers lightly. "Thank you, dear." Malfoy took that moment to drop a kiss on his mother's head. "Hermione's right, mum. You really outdid yourself."

The sapphire of Narcissa's eyes began to gleam, and she pulled out a pale green fan, which she began using. Hermione realized Narcissa was about to cry, and her heart welled with affection for Mrs. Malfoy. While Hermione didn't understand why a successful party was so important to her, she could tell the older woman was clearly touched by their words. It was such a change from the snobbish woman she had met so many years ago in Madam Malkin's shop.

And just like that, the show of emotion was gone. Narcissa snapped her fan shut, and smiled at someone over Hermione's shoulder.

"There you are, Lucius. I've been wondering where you've been."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	13. Carnivorous Carnival, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Nine:**

**Carnivorous Carnival, Part Two**

* * *

"There you are, Lucius. I've been wondering where you've been."

Lucius Malfoy stood there, hands held behind his back, the only indication he had heard his wife a curt nod of his head. Even without his wand, he cut quite an imposing figure. Like Draco, he was dressed in all black. His tie, though, was a light green, the perfect accessory to his wife's outfit and the ribbon that kept his blond hair from his face.

Even though Hermione had met with Narcissa a few times since she had befriended Draco, this was the first time she had seen Lucius since the end of the War. And before the War, all her encounters with him had been less than pleasant, to say the least. If she were honest, they were downright horrific. She had no idea what she was supposed to do.

Draco stepped forward. "Father, I would like to re-introduce you to Hermione Granger."

Lucius did not crack a smile, but he did acknowledge her. Stiffly holding out his hand to her, he waited for her to take it. And she did. Much to her disbelief his hand was not ice cold, but as warm as any other human being's.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. My son informs me that your acceptance of his offer of work is quite the coup for our company."

"Oh, well, I haven't actually accepted…Mr. Malfoy."

"Yet," Draco and Lucius said, simultaneously. Hermione looked over at Draco, unable to keep the smirk from her lips until she saw Lucius glance between her and Draco. After that smiling was no longer an issue.

"We've kept you two here long enough. Why don't you go in? We'll join you later," Narcissa said, looking quite pleased at the brief encounter.

Draco took Hermione by the elbow and bowed his head to his parents and aunt. The action was returned by his father. "Miss Granger. Thank you for joining us this evening."

As Draco led her away, Hermione could only think of what had just happened. Civility from Lucius Malfoy. What was the world coming to? Hermione glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if she had imagined the whole thing. But Lucius was still there, receiving a tiny peck on his cheek from a glowing Narcissa.

Draco stopped at the double doors. "Are you sure you want to go in there?"

"Huh?" She was still too confused by her encounter with Lucius to follow Draco's train of thought. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Considering you were tortured in there, you might not have fond memories of this room."

Oh. That.

Well, now that he mentioned it, no, she did not want to go in there. But this was one of those times where it was better to listen to reason than the chimaeras of the mind. Raising her chin and squaring her shoulders, Hermione breathed in deeply. She laughed airily, convincing herself that this was not a big deal. "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

Malfoy raised one of his pale brows. "Wrong. It could cripple you, torment you, leave you insane, or make you wet your pants. And that's not even mentioning the chro-"

Hermione held up her hands, "Merlin, you're morbid. It's just a muggle way of saying that I should face my fears."

"Wrong again. That was said by a dark wizard who, if I'm not mistaken ended his life in the throes of madness."

Interesting, but inconsequential.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I can't live my life in fear. We're going in there."

"And the point _I'm_ trying to make is you don't need to pretend to be brave with me. If you don't want to go in, just say the word and we'll go someplace else."

"If I ran away from all the bad experiences in my past, I never would have become your friend."

Malfoy already had his mouth open, a quick comeback on his lips, but her words gave him pause. "Touché. But if ever you want to leave, you'll tell me." It was more a command than question.

"Alright already. Now let's go in before the party is over."

Once Draco had opened the doors, Hermione was greeted with the most beautiful ballroom she had ever seen. Unlike the dark, closed space where she had undergone Bellatrix's torture, the area was bright and inviting. The walls were comprised of floor length mirrors, which in turn were gilded with gold carvings. More than one cherub winked and blew kisses at her. The mirrors were broken up by arched windows that gave glimpses into the back of the Malfoy property. Even from here, she could see a large pond reflecting the full moon.

Hermione looked up and gasped. The ceiling had been changed. No longer flat, it arched into a higher space. The chandelier that Dobby had sent crashing to the floor had been replaced with a living fresco reminiscent of the Renaissance masters. At its center was a noon day sun, which provided light for the entire room.

"My mother was inspired by our little fieldtrip to the Vatican," Draco informed, a small smile on his mouth.

Hermione hadn't even known the place had left any impression on Narcissa. She had spent most of the time complaining about the heat and the crowds. Apparently she had found time to pay attention to the art.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. She could actually picture herself just coming to the room and lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling for hours.

As they walked further into the room, she recognized a few faces. Most were purebloods that had somehow managed to escape Azkaban and didn't consider the Malfoys traitors for joining the Light side. The Parkinsons, Goyles, Blaise's mother (Hermione could never keep track of her ever-changing last name), and her latest conquest had congregated in a corner, flutes of champagne dangling from their fingers.

There were a handful of people from the ministry, and even more from Malfoy Industries (Sharon included). Pansy was dancing with her fiancé, Lancelot. Harry and Ginny were on the dance floor as well, though Harry looked considerably less at ease than Lancelot. Hermione laughed when she saw Seamus, who she had made Draco apologize to. He was in conversation with Padma Patil, who Hermione knew worked at Malfoy Industries. And of course there was the requisite reporter, who was currently watching her and Draco while dictating to her Quick-Quotes Quill. All told, there were about fifty people present. To Hermione, it was a large number, but it hardly filled the grand room.

Just then the doors opened again, letting in two new guests. Hermione turned to see who had arrived.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione made short work of the distance between them and flung herself into the witch's arms. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Goodness gracious, girl. Are you trying to break my back?" Hermione pulled away, frightened that she had hurt her favorite teacher. She had no cause for worry. Even though Minerva McGonagall's words weren't exactly friendly, there was no mistaking the smile on the old witch's face.

As soon as they had disengaged, Hermione was bodily lifted into the arms of the second guest. Fearful she would flash the world, Hermione held fast to the hem of her dress.

"Blimey, Hermione, it's been ages."

"Hagrid, it's great to see you, but would you mind putting me down?" Hermione said, her legs dangling in the air. "Please."

"Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you aren't a little girl anymore."

"Easy to do when you're ten feet tall," Draco quipped, steadying Hermione on her feet the instant Hagrid set her down.

Still surprised by their appearance, Hermione said, "What are you two doing here?"

"Mister Malfoy invited us," the older witch said.

Hermione stared at Malfoy, who just shrugged. "I figured Hagrid would be interested in the Foundation, seeing as how he appreciates magical creatures as much as you do. And as for _Headmistress _McGonagall, "Draco looked pointedly at Hermione, "she informed me she wanted to see you."

"Why didn't you tell me they were coming?" Hermione said.

"Does it really matter?" McGonagall asked.

"No, I suppose it doesn't." But she still wanted to know.

"Well, then." Draco stepped forward, shaking Hagrid's hand. "Thanks for coming and for agreeing to be our liaison to the giants."

"My pleasure, Mister Malfoy. And let me know if you'll be needing any assistance with the other creatures. I've been known to handle a hippogriff or two in my day, but you know all about that, don't you?" Hagrid gave Draco a huge pat on the back, almost knocking him to the floor.

"Yes, quite. I'll keep your offer in mind," he said. For some reason, Hermione seriously doubted that.

Draco turned to the Headmistress, who was peering at him over her square-framed spectacles. "I must say, Mister Malfoy, you have changed. I remembering worrying over you many a night, wondering how you would turn out, but you have surpassed even my highest expectations. I think I can safely say that Professor Snape would be proud of the fine, young man you've become."

Hermione watched Malfoy's face as McGonagall's words sank in. His eyes remained a stony gray, and his jaw stayed relaxed, but she saw the almost imperceptible straightening of his spine. He had barely moved, but to Hermione, he gave off the appearance of a person who felt as tall as a giant.

McGonagall's words must have been worth more to him than a fair portion of the galleons he had stored in Gringott's. She and Draco had never talked about Snape, but in that moment it occurred to Hermione that he probably thought as highly of the Potions Professor as she did of the Headmistress.

"Glad I've allayed your fears, Headmistress," Draco said, not even mentioning the older witch's reference to Snape. Sometimes Draco could be so understated. It didn't happen often, but Hermione had long ago discovered that the more he cared for something, the less emotion he displayed. This must have been one of those times.

But as in tune to Draco as Hermione was, Hagrid was equally oblivious. "I see Harry, but where's Ron?"

"He couldn't make it." Hermione shook her head. "He and Lavender are on the outs. Again."

"I see," Hagrid said, scratching his head. "Young love, I suppose. But I'm sure they'll come to rights very soon. They always do."

"A rather ridiculous way of conducting a relationship, if you ask me," McGonagall said. "Either they're together or they're not. It shouldn't be that difficult. Pick one and have done with it."

"Exactly," Draco said. "But this is Weasley we're talking about after all."

Hermione expected the Headmistress to scowl and reprimand Draco, but the woman actually smiled. "Too true, Mister Malfoy. That boy always has to do things the hard way."

They spent a few more minutes catching up with each other. When the conversation began to lull, Hagrid said, "Well, it's been fun catching up with you two. But I think it's time to pay a visit to Harry and Ginny."

"I believe I'll be joining you." The elder witch tucked her hand in Hagrid's elbow. "Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger. It is always a pleasure to see our students go on to great success."

"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione replied, with a smile.

As she watched them walk away, she said to Draco, "That was nice. Thanks for inviting them."

"How grateful would you say you are?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, backing away from the mischievous look on his face.

"If I asked you to dance, w-"

"No. I don't dance."

"Liar. I saw you at the Yule Ball." Draco sneered, but she could tell he was only pretending to be offended. "Perhaps Krum left such an impression on you, you refuse to dance with any other man for the rest of your life. If I had known, I would have invited him too."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, amused. "Hardly. I just don't want to dance."

Of course he didn't listen to her. Pulling her toward the floor, he said, "We need to set an example."

"But there are other couples dancing!"

"Yes, but look how poorly they do it. They look like a bunch of yetis fighting over a snow cone."

"They do not!" Though Goyle lent some credence to his argument. "And I will tell Pansy what you said about her dance skills."

Her threat obviously had no effect. Draco merely shrugged his shoulders. "Think of how selfish you're being. Would you deprive the world of the experience of seeing us dance together?"

Hermione did not know why she was being so difficult, but she imagined listening to Draco's increasingly ridiculous arguments had something to do with it. As it was, she was having a very difficult time trying not to laugh.

"I'm not that good a dancer," she said.

"But I am. I have enough natural talent and training to camouflage whatever clumsiness, lack of rhythm, or missteps you may display. In my arms, you'll be as graceful as a river nymph, as glorious as reborn Phoenix," Draco waggled his eyebrows, lowering his voice so only she could hear him, "as sensual and seductive as a Veela."

She couldn't take it any longer. She had to laugh. "If you're so talented, why do you even need me? Just go out there and dance by yourself."

"Unlike you, I am not selfish. Such a gift as mine must be shared with a partner."

Hermione stood up on her tiptoes, peering over the crowd for a suitable partner for her friend. "Oh, look! There's Millicent Bulstrode. I'll ask her if she wants to dance with you. Maybe if you're lucky, she'll give you another kiss."

Draco shook his head adamantly, taking her hand. "No more excuses. You're dancing with me."

"Fine," she said, intentionally sounding as if he were dragging her to the gallows. "But if you step on my toes, I will retaliate."

His only answer was to place his free hand just below her shoulder blade. It was innocent enough. Harry and Ron had touched her back countless times, and she had thought nothing of it. But thanks to her dress (or lack thereof), his fingers were on her bare skin, marking what had heretofore been unchartered territory.

"Isn't your hand supposed to be at my waist?" she asked.

"No. This provides better support. But if you like…" His fingers trailed down the open part of her dress, settling at her waist in a firm grip. At least there was material there, but the positioning seemed much more intimate. She couldn't decide which was worse.

It turned out to be neither. There was nothing more torturous than having to maintain eye contact with him longer than a few seconds. She wanted to look anywhere else. His shoulder, or chin, or forehead, but she couldn't look away. Otherwise he'd know and tease her. But he must have sensed how uncomfortable she felt. His devilish grin was proof enough.

"If my magic is to work, you're going to need to relax," he said.

"I am relaxed."

Draco nodded his head, mocking her. "Sure you are."

After that, neither of them spoke. She tried to turn it into a game, where the loser was the first to look away or speak. It required all of her concentration and determination. She focused on the gray of his eyes, noticing for the first time that his irises were surrounded by a dark blue ring. And within the gray, there were threads of amber and even silver; it reminded her of quartz. She wondered if there was some kind of similar effect in her eyes. She'd have to check her mirror that night when she got home.

She was in the process of noticing another hidden color, when a voice startled her from her reverie. "Mind if I cut in?"

It was Blaise Zabini.

"Not at all," Draco said, relinquishing his hold on her. But before he gave her hand to the other Slytherin, he said, "Unless you have any objections?"

She shook her head. "It's OK."

"Well, then Blaise, here you go." Draco gave her hand to Zabini.

"About time you let her dance with someone else," Blaise said.

"We've only been dancing for one song," Hermione said.

"Try three, Granger."

Really?! It didn't feel that long at all.

"Perfect timing as usual, Blaise. My host duties require some mixing and mingling with the others. See you two later." And with that, Draco went away.

Hermione had spent some time with Blaise. Due to her friendship with Draco, it was unavoidable. He also joined the Quidditch league all the boys played in, so she saw him during the games. Out of all Draco's Slytherin cronies, she found him and Theodore Nott to be the least annoying. In fact, sometimes Blaise could be downright funny. They weren't exactly bosom buddies, though.

"So, Granger, how's life?"

"Decent, I guess. And you?"

"Same. But I didn't cut in to discuss social niceties with you."

"Alright. What do you want to talk about?"

"Business."

"Are you considering working with the Malfoy Foundation?" she asked.

"You're joking, right?" Zabini laughed, then stopped when he noticed she hadn't joined him. "Oh. You aren't. Sorry about that."

"An apology, Zabini? Are you trying to butter me up?"

"Would it work?"

"Depends on what you're asking for."

"There's a certain…wager I've made with a few of my associates regarding a merger between two parties, of which you are one."

"If this is about whether or not I'll be heading the foundation, I haven't decided yet. And Draco will be the first one I tell, not you."

"I don't care who you work for. Who you are with, on the other hand…"

"I'm sorry, Zabini, but I have no intentions of dating someone just so you can win a bet."

"Not dating." Overdramatic ponce that he was, he paused for effect. "Marrying."

"Oh, well in that case, sure. Because marriage is a much less demanding commitment than dating," Hermione said, pouring as much sarcasm as she could into her words.

"Glad we're agreed. Now if you would marry our friend Draco before the year is over, I'll be five hundred galleons richer."

"What?!" Hermione gaped. "You're betting on who I'll marry!"

"Not who. That's already decided. When."

"I can't believe you?! Does Draco know what you're doing?"

"No, and I'd appreciate it if you kept our conversation to yourself. He would only try to influence the results against me."

"What kind of person places bets on something like this?"

"Might want to pose that question to your friend Ginevra. She's the one who started it."

That was it! Hermione broke free from Blaise to chase after Ginny, only to smack into the chest of one of the Ministry employees. "Hello, Hermione, Blaise. May I have this dance?"

It was one of Lancelot's coworkers and friends, Zachary Prince. He was a nice enough guy, but Hermione was in no mood to dance. She was about to politely decline when Zabini said, "Of course." As he handed her over to Zachary, he whispered in her ear, "Think about it, Granger. I'll even give you a percentage of my winnings."

From there on, it was one dance after another. Every time she tried to get away, she was partnered with someone else. And the men were of diminishing quality. Each partner was worse and worse. The last wizard had stepped on her toes, bored her to no end, and his breath smelled faintly of cheese.

When she felt another tap on her shoulder, she almost snapped. Not another! Her feet were killing her!

"Yes?" she said through gritted teeth, slowly turning around.

Oh, it was Harry. With Ginny. It didn't matter. She was saved. "Hi!"

Harry appeared taken back by her enthusiasm. "We were, uh, thinking about heading out. Wasn't sure if you wanted to join us."

"Yes!" Anything to get off the dance floor. "I just need to say good bye to Draco. Have you seen him?"

"Can't say I have," Harry said.

"Well, I'll go look for him," Hermione said.

"You have ten minutes," Ginny said. "If you aren't at the gate by then, we'll have no choice but to assume you two are snogging passionately and that you didn't want us to wait."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just stay here till I come back. I won't be long. And then you and I are going to have a nice, _long_ chat."

Ginny smiled. "Can't wait."

Scanning the ballroom, Hermione realized Draco wasn't there. She entered the hall, which was empty but for a few wizards and witches, none of whom were Draco. Turning down the nearest hallway, she continued her search.

After winding down three hallways, she began to realize just how large Malfoy Manor was. And that she was hopelessly lost. She was just about to call for Lulu, when she heard some voices. She headed toward the noise, hoping to run into someone who could help her navigate the maze that was Malfoy Manor.

Stopping outside the door the conversation was coming from, she looked in. The voices belonged to Draco's parents, and apparently they had not noticed she was there. She could not tear her eyes from the scene before her. Curiosity getting the better of her and her conscience, she began to eavesdrop.

Narcissa was staring up at Lucius, blue eyes watery and nose slightly pink. Her lower lip trembled as he slipped his hand in her hair. "Cissa," he quietly said, dropping a light kiss on her forehead. "Cissa, it was a lovely party. There must have been some mix-up with the owl post, that's all." Much as her husband tried to comfort her, his words seemed to be her undoing. Narcissa burst into tears, hiding her face in the front of his robes. As if by an act of magic, the witch disappeared, enfolded in Lucius's arms. He continued stroking her hair, staring straight ahead, eyes glittering dangerously. No doubt plotting revenge against those who had made his wife cry.

It was so utterly…romantic.

As she continued watching Lucius comfort Narcissa, she felt a familiar pang in her heart. The one that told her she would be so much happier if there was someone in her life who would help her fight her battles, who would adore her, hold her while she cried. She had spent so much time smothering that desire with work and motivational talks about the joys of singleness, but it managed to keep resurfacing, whispering that she was missing something.

She wanted the success and influence of McGonagall, but watching Narcissa, she also wanted the whole-hearted devotion of the man she loved. Hermione didn't want to attend functions on the arm of a half-giant, nice as he was. And she didn't want to come home to an empty flat either.

Her treacherous heart didn't stop there. It kept whispering, feeding her with unwanted hope. Why couldn't she have both? After all, her mother was both happily married and professionally successful. Unfortunately, Allison Granger was the only such example she could come up with, but that was proof enough that domestic and professional felicity weren't mutually exclusive. Sure, it wouldn't be easy. Sacrifices would need to be made, priorities would have to shift and be constantly reevaluated, but it was possible. If the man was understanding enough. And if she was willing to compromise too.

Hermione sighed. Why was she thinking thoughts like this? Even if it were possible, it wasn't like it was a realistic option right now. She only had a career, and it could hardly be classified as successful. For the time being, she'd have to make do with her lot in life, and thinking about these things would only make her discontent. It made no sense to pine after something that at the present moment did not exist, no matter how much she wished it did.

It was all Ginny's fault! If that witch had just kept her mouth shut earlier in the day, Hermione knew she wouldn't be thinking about relationships at all right now.

As Hermione stood there, waging with her heart and mind, Lucius glanced over at her. Hermione's eyes widened, but she was rooted to the spot. Even though Lucius had no wand, she fully expected to be turned into stone, another statue to decorate their front lawn and for the peacocks to roost on. But nothing happened. All he said was, "Draco, why don't you and Miss Granger take a stroll about the grounds?"

Draco! She'd forgotten all about him. Hermione whipped her head around to find him standing right behind her, hands clenched tightly into fists.

"Of course, father." He took her arm a little less than gently, but she didn't object. Somehow she knew he wasn't upset with her. Or at least that was what she was hoping.

In silence he led her through the darkened corridors, finally opening a door that led to the back of the Malfoy property. Being out in the open air was nice, as his continued sullenness was stifling.

Unable to stand the quiet anymore, she said, "I actually think the party was a success."

"Considering the room fits two hundred, you could say my mother was hoping for a few more guests."

"Fifty people is still a lot," Hermione argued.

He glanced over at her, eyes angry. He hardly ever looked at her that way, and she didn't care for it very much.

"I don't want to talk about it."

If he wanted to suffer in silence, it was fine with her.

Increasing the space between them, she started walking toward the beautiful pond set in the middle of the grounds. Water lilies floated in intricate patterns across the surface, lit inside by the occasional fairy that would rest there. Taking off her shoes she dipped her toe in, finding the water pleasantly warm. Perfect for her aching feet.

There were rounded stones along the shimmery floor, and she rolled them under the arches of her feet, digging her toes in the sand. She had almost forgotten Draco was with her, but she heard him behind her, picking up a rock. Standing on the edge, he launched it across the pond. She watched it skip four times before it disappeared under the water.

Turning around, she walked back towards him, holding out her hand for help. When she was back on the grass, she laced her fingers in his, not letting go. He glanced down at her, eyes still shuttered.

"You can tell me what's bothering you," she said.

For a second, Hermione thought he would, but then his jaw clenched and he turned from her, staring into the pond.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I can listen."

"Hermione, please, just…drop it."

"I really think that if you would jus-"

He ripped his hand from hers, stuffing both of them in his pockets. "I'm not Potter and Weasley, and I'm not going to start crying on your shoulder like a little girl, so will you just shut up? I told you I didn't want to talk about it, so stop being so damned nosy."

His words stung. She had forgotten how adept he was at using them as weapons, and she had never expected to be at the receiving end of one of his tirades again.

It would have been so easy to storm away, talk with him tomorrow when he wasn't in such a foul mood, but she didn't want to leave him like this. After all the times he had been there for her, it would be criminal to abandon him, even if he was being a jerk.

But she was still angry. Trying to calm down, she reminded herself that he wasn't used to compassion and understanding. He wouldn't expect it, and he would never ask for it, even if he wanted to. Really, he was being a big hypocrite. He helped her all the time, and she hardly ever complained about it. Well, she would have to show him that it went both ways, and it was nothing to be ashamed of.

Draco still wouldn't look at her, so she walked in front of him, staring up into his angry face. His features were proud, lip curled in disdain and eyes as hard as slate. She could see why most people found him intimidating, but she knew better.

Reaching up, she placed her hand on his cheek, and he seemed startled by her action. He blinked in confusion, but then his mask was back in place. He turned his head to the side, looking far off in the distance.

"Draco, it's alright. I know you didn't mean it. And if it bothers you so much, we don't have to talk about it. Ever."

He still didn't say anything, and she knew he was putting up his walls. Keeping his emotions locked up inside so she wouldn't be able to see his anger and hurt. It was unhealthy. Maybe he wouldn't talk to her, but words weren't the only way to show she cared.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down into a hug. At first he didn't return it, and she worried he would push her away, which would have been really bad because the water was right behind her. But then his arms lowered to her back, pressing her close to him as his head bowed over hers.

They stood like that for some time, his fingers gently stroking her back and playing with the ends of her curly hair. She closed her eyes, thinking of how nice this felt. And her heart started whispering again, and she tried to forget that it was Draco holding her. Pretended that she was in the arms of someone else, someone who loved and desired her.

His lips moved at her hairline. "I'm sorry."

She swallowed, her throat hoarse. "It's alright."

His fingers were splayed against her jaw, lifting her eyes to his. "No, it's not. I shouldn't have said that. I…" A gentle breeze blew around them, stirring the curls around her face, tickling her. She was about to brush the irritants away, but Draco beat her to it.

His eyes dropped down to her mouth, and for a second, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. And for that frightening, horribly wonderful second, she could hardly breathe, because she actually wanted him to do it.

Hermione blinked. Merlin, what was wrong with her? Just because she wanted a guy didn't mean she had to transfer her feelings to the one right in front of her. That was the mistake she had made with Ron. She thought she had learned her lesson.

Unable to look at her friend (her _friend_, she stressed again), she buried her face in his chest.

"Are you cold?" he asked. Her arms were covered with goose-flesh, and given his annoying habit of paying attention to every little detail about every little thing, naturally he noticed. His hands began rubbing up and down her arms, trying to warm up what was already burning. "Maybe we should go inside," he said.

Inside? Her mind was working so slowly. She knew she was forgetting something. What was it? "Oh, no! I completely forgot about Harry and Ginny." Hermione tore away, starting for the house.

She was effectively stopped by his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry. I ran into them before I found you. They've already left."

Unable to look at him, she stared at their feet. "Well, I probably should be going anyway. It's late." And if she stayed here any longer, she really thought she was in danger of doing something stupid. Like falling for her friend.

"Wait..."

Was he going to ask her to stay? A swarm of butterflies took off in her stomach.

"Yes?"

He said nothing for a few seconds, and she waited with baited breath for him to speak. "I'll see you to the gate."

That was it?! All that nervousness for nothing. Once again, Hermione chided herself for thinking such stupid thoughts.

She nodded her head, and together they walked to the front of Malfoy Manor, where she apparated to her flat, promptly falling onto her bed with a groan.

Ginny was going to die.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	14. The Slippery Slope

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I apologize to those who think Hermione is being super dense. I suppose I could change it, but I'm not going to. Part of me thinks I'm stretching realism, but at the same time, there isn't really one thought she hasn't pondered when liking some guy who seemed so utterly unattainable that I haven't thought myself. It's very real to me, in any case, as I've lived it before, and I know I'm not all that unique. I'm sure tons of girls have gone through the same kind of horrible, mental gymnastics where they try to explain away the behavior of a guy who is obviously interested. That's good enough justification for me to keep her this way. **:D **So this is for all those insecure girls out there who are wonderful and just don't know it! Holla!

I started school again, so updates might start coming more slowly. However, there's only three more (or six at most, if they turn into double chapters), before this is finished. I think I'll be done by November, if not sooner.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Ten:**

**The Slippery Slope**

* * *

"Alright. Unless someone has anything else to say…" Hermione glanced around the table at her eclectic group of subordinates. When there was no response, she smiled and said, "Meeting dismissed. Sorry it went over. Have a good weekend."

Hermione waited until everyone had left before gathering her own effects. Getting into the elevator, she punched the button for the top floor, whistling along with the slow and sleepy music. A melodic ding informed her that she had reached the top floor. She was sure Draco had left for the day, but she peered down the hall, making sure it was empty. Once that was confirmed, she skipped down to her office.

Bursting into her room with a smile on her face, she almost screamed when she saw it wasn't empty. Hand at her chest, trying to keep her heart from bursting forth, she said, "You _really_ need to stop doing that." But the rebuke was half-hearted. She was in too good a mood to pretend otherwise.

"Well, don't you look happy," Draco observed, casting his gaze over her. Trying to ignore his scrutiny, she bustled around her office, gathering the files she wanted to look over that weekend.

"And I have you to thank for it," she said, cheerfully.

"The work day ended thirty minutes ago. Why are you still here?"

"Just a few things I needed to finish up." She looked up from her papers a second later. "Why are _you_ still here? It's long past three o'clock."

"Contrary to popular Hermione-belief, I can work hard too."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know you can, but your hard work seems limited to a very strict ten to three schedule."

"What can I say? Your diligence and perseverance have rubbed off on me."

"Really?"

"No. I forgot something at the office and came to pick it up. Just stopped by to see if you were here." Draco sat on the edge of her desk, picking up her quill and twirling it around his fingers. "How come you never use the quill I got you?"

The Christmas gag gift with the insanely long white peacock feather that tickled her face every time she tried to write with it. "It's not practical."

"Did you throw it away?"

"Of course not. I would never throw away a gift."

"Then where is it?"

Hermione pointed to her chimney floo. "I thought it was pretty, so I put it over the mantle for decoration."

Draco had already moved on, picking up one of her paperweights, another Christmas gag gift from him. He said it represented her work with magical creatures, but she knew better. As he tossed the golden ball from hand to hand, he awoke the snidget statue from its sleep. It began flapping its wings and pecking at his fingers with its tiny beak.

"Feeling restless?" she asked.

He let the paperweight go, and it flew a few circles around the room before settling back on her desk, curling back into a nondescript shiny ball that looked an awful lot like a golden snitch. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Your inability to stay still for even a second." Hermione stacked her papers neatly in her briefcase. "Well, I'm finished. Did you want to do something?"

"I'm babysitting Teddy tonight."

"Oh, well maybe tomorrow then."

"No, tonight is fine."

"But Teddy…"

"As we've proven before, it is possible for him to have two sitters at once."

Hermione smiled, remembering that horrible day. "If I recall correctly, the only thing that night proved was that even if we are both there, I'm the one who does all the work."

"Nonsense. I made him stop crying," he said, trying to sound indignant.

"And petrified me, insulted me, and left me by myself, sodden and miserable."

Draco tapped his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. "Hmmm, can't say I remember much of anything except the part with you in your soaked shirt. Indelibly etched in my mind." His grin was like that of a Cheshire cat. "Fortunately."

Hermione ignored the slight flip flop of her stomach, reminding both of them, "You said I looked like something a kneazle had dragged in."

"Why does everyone assume that that isn't a compliment?"

"Because it isn't."

"Then allow me to clarify. You ar-"

Hermione held up her hands, trying to ward off his words, because she wasn't sure she could handle whatever he was going to say. "That's quite alright. We should be going, anyway. I need to change first, but I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

"See you then," Draco answered, still perched on her desk, his gaze burning at her back as she entered the Floo Network.

As soon as she had set her briefcase down inside her flat, she walked to her closet, trying to find something to wear. Nothing seemed right. After ten minutes of trying on and then pulling off all sorts of outfits, she sat down on her bed with a sigh.

"Why does it matter what I look like?" she asked to no one in particular though Widdershins was kind enough to meow back.

Lifting the cat into her arms, she rubbed her face against his. Not even her kitty's kisses could dislodge the disappointment she felt in herself at that moment.

"I know, Widdyshins, I know. I shouldn't care what he thinks."

But she did.

Hermione flopped back on her mattress with a groan. It had taken her awhile, but she had managed to get Ginny to call off that ridiculous bet. Unfortunately, it was too late. The damage had already been done, and try as she might, Hermione could not repair it. Ginny had planted the seed, made Hermione start questioning her stance on relationships, and more terrifyingly, her feelings toward Draco.

The seed had taken root somewhere deep in her mind. No, not a seed. More like an insidious little weed. It wasn't content to grow, shrivel up, and die. It spread its poisonous and irritatingly bountiful germs, sprouting up its weed children in all the nooks and crannies of Hermione's very large brain. No matter how many times she tried to dig them out, kill them with reason and sense, they kept growing back, twisting and distorting how she felt about Draco Malfoy.

And she hated it.

Every time she looked at him, unfriendly thoughts intruded. But they weren't the kinds she used to have, where she called him mean names, transfigured him into a ferret, or pictures his hair falling out. That would have been too simple. They were more along the lines of noticing things like how much she liked the way his lips looked. Or how his eyes dazzled when he smiled at her. Or how firm his arms felt when they were wrapped around her. Horribly embarrassing stuff like that.

She knew it was just a tiny crush, a passing fancy that would eventually go away, but her stupid, stupid heart would give her no peace. It fed off all her girlhood fantasies, inserting Draco Malfoy where a faceless idea used to reside. It was Draco smashing in, then kissing off cake from her face, while she looked resplendent in her glistening white dress. It was Draco walking around with her in Greece, pointing out all the naughty statues and making her laugh on her dream honeymoon. It was Draco bouncing two small, curly-haired blond children on his knees. Yes, because in Hermione's daydreams, they had twins. For starters. What could she say? In her dreams, she was insanely fertile and so was he.

Being a girl, she knew how the female mind worked. It didn't matter that she knew this was just a phase, a fancy that would pass given enough time. Now that she was awakened to the possibility that she might like Draco, all their interactions had taken on a different meaning. Every little comment or touch of his hand, things that had meant absolutely nothing to her before, suddenly had thousands upon thousands of layers of meaning. And naturally Hermione had to analyze every last one of those layers, first with a fine-tooth comb, then a microscope, and lastly an enlargement charm. Because not only was Hermione Granger extremely thorough, she was a Grade- A masochist.

And for what? It wasn't even like the answer mattered. She knew she didn't _really_ like him. And he certainly didn't like her.

It was driving her insane, and it had to stop. It had been three weeks since the party at Malfoy Manor, and she knew her thinking patterns were on the verge of becoming habit.

She had been too nice to herself for too long. This was one of those times where she had to be ruthless. She couldn't wait for the attraction to subside. It was time to kill it. Nip it in the bud before it actually turned into something that could hurt her. And she'd start right now.

Getting up from her bed, she realized that it had been twenty-five minutes since she had left her office. Setting Widdershins down and strolling over to her closet, she dug around in the back, finding the frumpiest outfit she could possibly find. That would show her for caring what she looked like!

Once she was arrayed in her rattiest pair of jeans, that old t-shirt of her dad's that doubled as a night gown, and a pair of old trainers, she apparated to Andromeda's house.

Draco was already waiting for her outside, Teddy in his arms. She tried not to squirm as his eyes darted over her less than stellar sartorial selections. "I figured we could go to the park while it's still light outside," he said.

"Sounds good to me."

"Hermy," the young boy shouted. Holding out her arms, she took Teddy from Draco, ignoring the way his hands brushed hers.

"Hello, Teddy Bear. How are you?" she asked.

The boy didn't answer, but as was his custom, he transformed in appearance. Once again, she was staring at what could have very well been one of her and Draco's many children.

"I think he's trying to tell us something," Draco said, smiling at her.

She didn't respond. At least not externally, though her heart did a weird kind of somersault twist thing, which she chalked up to hormones and a biological clock that should be nowhere close to ticking.

Before even a minute had passed Teddy started wriggling in her arm. "Down, Hermy, down."

"Teddy, we still have a few blocks to go. I can't put you down. You might run into the street, and there are lots of cars."

"I don't understand why you bother explaining. Just say no and leave it at that."

"He's two years old, Draco, not a baby. I'm sure he understands some of it."

But all Teddy understood was that Hermione wouldn't put him down, and he didn't much like that. At least that's what Hermione assumed from the high-pitched wails he was emitting in her ear.

"Let me try," Draco said.

Hermione passed Teddy back to Draco, but even his usual charm over Teddy had no effect.

"He is in an unusually cranky mood today," Hermione noted, getting somewhat flustered by the boy's continued crying and just everything in general.

"Andromeda said he hadn't taken his nap." Draco flinched as Teddy kept screaming in his ear. "I'm thinking a Silencio could do right about now."

"What?! You can't do that to him?"

"That didn't stop you from using it on me."

Hermione smiled, remembering that particular stroke of brilliance. "That was different. You were being annoying."

"And he isn't?"

Hermione glared at him. "He doesn't know better. And you are not performing that spell on a two year old child."

"Relax. I was only kidding. Andromeda gave me enough grief about it the last time."

"The last time?!" Hermione gaped at him in shock.

Draco, dispassionate bugger that he was, only shrugged. "It would have worked perfectly if I hadn't forgotten to take it off before I left." Draco stopped walking, "Alright, that's it. Teddy, you're going down."

But in order to placate Hermione's fears of Teddy turning into roadkill, they both spent the rest of the walk hunched over, each holding one of Teddy's hands as he toddled between them. It was rather slow-going.

As soon as they arrived at the park, Teddy pointed to the playground slide. To Hermione, it looked more like a malicious metal slope than something a small child had any business playing on. "Up!" the boy said.

"Teddy, that's too big for you. Maybe we should try the horse." Hermione pointed to the little rocking seahorse.

Draco already had the boy in his hands, walking him over to the slide's ladder. "Teddy's too big for that, aren't you?" Draco said.

Hermione ran over to the end of the slide, looking up apprehensively as Draco climbed the ladder. "And he's too small for this. He's going to get hurt."

"No he's not."

Before she could object, Teddy, in the arms of his much older cousin, was barreling towards her. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst, but when she opened them, they were merely sitting at the edge of the slide, Teddy crowing with laughter.

Draco stood up, confident grin on his face, "See, no harm done."

"More!" Teddy yelled.

Draco handed Teddy over to her. "You heard him, Hermione. More."

"I'm not going up there."

She changed her mind the second Draco started laughing at her.

Making her way to the ladder, she stared at the top, twelve feet above her. It wasn't so bad, she told herself as she got on the first rung.

I'm not going to die, she promised on rung two.

This is fun, she swore on step three.

By the seventh rung, her mental motivations weren't quite so motivating. Nor were they kept to herself. She stared down at the smiling man below, "I hate you, Draco Malfoy."

She really shouldn't have looked down.

She had read books about near-death experiences. The people always said everything slowed down and became impossibly clear. They were liars! Her mind was racing, going a mile a minute. How was she supposed to get down? What if she dropped Teddy? What kind of sadistic bastard put a slide the size of Mount Everest in a children's park?

She was on the verge of panicking, and matters weren't helped when she felt Draco's hands on her waist. "Hate is such a strong word," he said in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Not a good thing when precariously balanced with a child in your hands on a thin strip of metal six feet off the ground. "Are you sure you don't want to take that back?" he said, smiling against her cheek.

"Quite sure," she whispered, trying not to look down. Things got slightly better as he pressed himself against her back. She told herself it was more necessary than comforting. At least if she fell, there would be cushioning.

"The way I see it, you should love me," he said. "After all, I am rescuing you."

This was _not_ the way she wanted to be distracted from her fear of heights. "I want down," she pleaded.

"Nope. We're going up. Just five more steps and we'll be at the top."

They stood there for another minute. She refused to budge.

"Hermione, I think it's time you start climbing," he said gently.

"No!"

"I will carry you up the rest of the way if I have to."

"Is that safer?"

"Probably not. So if you don't want to break your neck, you better start climbing."

His threats gave her courage, which was really twisted when she thought about it, but she didn't think about it. She had more important things to concentrate on, namely not dying.

It took about three more minutes, but they finally reached the summit. She sat at the top of the veritable Himalaya with Teddy in her lap. Draco's legs were on either side of her, his arms firmly around their waists.

"You ready?" he asked.

Before she could answer, she was falling, hurtling toward her death. She felt the wind rip through her hair, and the vindictive part of her hoped it was whipping Draco in the face. A few heart-stopping moments later, they were at the bottom of the slide, legs dangling over the edge.

Surprisingly, she was not dead.

Collapsing in relief, Hermione fell backward into his chest, ignoring the way it was rumbling with laughter.

"Now was that so bad?" he asked a minute later.

No, and it wasn't so good either, but she was just happy to be alive so she agreed.

"I think we should do it again," Draco said.

That woke her from her relieved stupor. Jumping up from the slide, Hermione shook her head. "Never again!" And to keep her solemn oath, she walked off to the grass, sitting down with Teddy. Thankfully, that was agreeable to the toddler, who lay down on the grass beside her.

It wasn't long before they were joined by Draco, but he wasn't alone. Hermione stood up, brushing the grass from her ugly jeans and internally cursing that she would be seen by strangers looking like a bum.

"What a lovely boy you have," an old woman observed. She had a friendly face, lined by smiles and age, and framed by beautiful silver hair. She was standing next to an equally pleasant old man, who Hermione assumed was her husband.

Hermione opened her mouth to correct the lady, but Draco was at her side, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Thank you, Mrs…"

"Call me Doris. And this is my husband, Cecil. "

Draco extended his free arm for handshakes. "My name's Draco, this is Hermione, and our son's name is Teddy."

Were the fates conspiring against her? She was trying _not _to think of Draco this way, and here they were actually pretending to be married.

Hermione glanced down at Teddy, who was now making up for his missed nap. Lucky boy, she wished she could have joined him.

"How old is he?" Cecil asked.

"Just turned two." Without warning Draco shifted behind her, wrapping his arms possessively around her stomach. His finger moved in small circles along her waist, raking trails of fire through the fabric of her shirt. "And we're actually expecting a second."

Hermione let out a gasp and smacked his hands away. She almost started yelling at him, but remembered the old couple watching them.

"You'll have to forgive my wife's shock. She wasn't aware I already knew, and I think she wanted to surprise me." She couldn't see him, but she was sure he was grinning. And she certainly felt him kiss the top of her head.

Only he would think lying to strangers was actually funny.

Cecil chuckled. "Doris tried to do that with me too, but I found out every time."

The older woman looked over at her husband, surprised. "What gave it away?"

"Your renewed craving for peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

Doris's eyes lit in remembrance. "Ah, that's right. Happened with each of our four kids." Smiling, she looked at Draco. "What was it for you?"

Much to Hermione's displeasure, Draco had an answer at the ready.

"With Hermione it's not so much a craving for food, as much as other…things." Draco trailed off suggestively. Hermione whipped her head around just in time to catch him winking at Cecil.

She could feel the heat literally crawling up her cheeks, and strangers or no, she slapped him on his arm as hard as she could. "Draco, don't say that," she howled.

"No need to be embarrassed, dear," Doris said, kindly. "You two are young, healthy, and in love. It's to be expected. Why I remember when we were newlyweds, we couldn't get enough of each other."

"Still can't," Cecil said, winking back at Malfoy.

Ew! Hermione was glad that Cecil and Doris had found some way to keep the…flame burning, but it still wasn't a very nice mental image. What happened to the good old days, where strangers didn't talk about what happened in their bedrooms, but restricted their conversations to the weather and sports?

She was just about to comment on the nice spring day, when Draco spoke again.

"I'm sure it will be that way for me and Hermione." His hold tightened on her waist. He must have known she was going to make a run for it.

"I wouldn't count on it." Hermione said through gritted teeth. "You're going to be sleeping on the floor."

Hermione caught the sly look Doris gave Cecil. They didn't believe her.

"Have you given any thought as to what you're going to name your next one?" Doris asked, trying to change the conversation.

Hermione shook her head, but Draco, the ever talkative one, contradicted her. "If it's a girl, Vega. For a boy, I'm thinking Orion." Of course, Draco would want to name his kids after stars. She should have seen that coming.

"Those are very…interesting names," Doris said, looking over at Hermione. "Do you like them, dear?"

Well, they were decent. Actually, kind of nice, but they were not what she had chosen for her kids.

"I like the names Elizabeth and Daniel," she said, earning approval from Doris.

"Vega Elizabeth and Orion Daniel," Draco said.

"More like Elizabeth Vega and Daniel Orion," Hermione argued.

"Well, I'm sure you two will figure it out before the baby arrives," Cecil said with a grin. Looking down at his watch, he said, "Got to be starting home before my show comes on. It was nice meeting you two."

"You too," Draco said, before Cecil and Doris walked away.

If they weren't in a muggle park, she would have hexed him. So she did the next best thing. Pushed him to the ground and began hitting him until she couldn't anymore, because she was laughing too hard.

"You are so bad!" she yelled, still swatting at him, while he defended his face with his arms.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I cannot believe you! What would possess you to say that to strangers?"

"What? That? You've never pretended to be something you aren't?"

Well, there was that one incident involving Millicent Bulstrode's cat, but that hardly qualified. "Yes, but not for fun."

"So you agree that was fun?"

"I admit nothing."

"That's as good as a yes."

Her sides hurting from laughing, Hermione rolled over onto her back, looking heavenward as she caught her breath. Brilliant oranges, golds, and reds bled across the canvas of sky and cloud. It was so beautiful her heart ached to behold it. And it ached some more when Draco lay down at her side, arm flush with hers.

"So, Elizabeth and Daniel, eh? They're nice names. A little plain, but nice."

She crossed her arms over her chest, somewhat defensively. "Those are the names of characters from my favorite books. If I ever have kids that is what I'm naming them."

"_If_ you ever have kids? Don't you want them?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

Hermione did not like the turn this conversation was taking. "Well, yes, but I might not ever get married, so…"

Draco propped himself up on his side, looking down at her. She could see him at the edge of her vision, outlined by the glorious backdrop. And there she was, dressed like a hobo on patchy green grass and dingy brown dirt.

"Why wouldn't you get married?" he asked.

No, she did not like this conversation at all.

"I don't know."

"Do you not like the idea of marriage?"

Hermione closed her eyes and recited her mantra. "Not everyone gets married. I want to, but there's no guarantee it will happen."

She felt rather than heard him sigh. "Do you ever just want something because you want it? Not because it's safe or the proper thing to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just once I'd like to see you go after what you really wanted, instead of waiting on the sidelines while life passes you by."

Hermione's eyes snapped open then narrowed. "I don't do that!"

"You hated your job, but you didn't do anything about it until I practically forced your hand. You want to be in a relationship, but you won't allow yourself to think about it or consider anyone, because you're too afraid of getting hurt or rejected. You sit at home with your two cats, reading or watching movies about people with the kinds of life you want, rather than just living it out yourself. _Etcetera, etcetera. Ad nauseum. Ad infinitum_."

Hermione could feel herself faltering. She knew she was boring and practical, and she thought she had accepted that. Why was he making her question that? And why was Draco saying these things as if they were bad? Didn't he like her the way she was?

Too confused and hurt, Hermione lashed out. Better to hurt than to be hurt. "While your command of the Latin language is impressive, I've accomplished a lot more than most people my age. I helped defeat Voldemort, for Merlin's sake, which is more than you ever did! Just because you feel guilty for being such a coward growing up, doesn't mean you get to take it out on me."

She hated herself the instant the words left her lips.

He spoke on as if he didn't hear her. "All of your accomplishments are done on behalf of other people or for some cause. Never for yourself. It's all so very noble, but what about your own dreams?" She could hear the sarcasm lacing his tone. He was angry with her, and she knew she deserved it after those horrible things she had said, but not for this.

She felt her lower lip tremble, but stopped herself before she got too emotional. Hardening her voice and drawing from her anger and frustration, she said, "Of course I want things! I want plenty of things, but you can't always have them. I didn't grow up with everything handed to me on a silver platter. I've had to fight tooth and nail for everything, and I've come to realize that sometimes it's just not worth it. Sometimes it's just pure selfishness."

"When did wanting a family or a relationship become selfish?"

"It can be when there are more important things to be done. Like rebuilding the wizarding world, and making sure that all magical beings can enjoy the same rights. I should be focusing on things like that, not who my next boyfriend is going to be."

"Would you listen to yourself, Hermione?" He looked about ready to throttle her, but she saw him reassert his self-control. When he spoke again, all the heat had disappeared from his voice, replaced with an inhuman chill. "Most people stop at realizing that they have a desire, and they're OK with it. But not you. You have to beat it out of yourself and convince yourself that your desires are bad, because Merlin forbid you actually want something that might inconvenience somebody else. You belittle the things that everyone else wants, just so you can feel better about yourself. And you wonder why everyone thinks you're an unfeeling ice queen."

Well, no, she hadn't been wondering that, but thanks to him now she would. But that wasn't exactly true. She had gradually learned to stop caring about what strangers thought of her. But Draco wasn't a stranger, and his opinion meant an awful lot to her.

"Why are you so upset with me?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I'm not upset with you."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, what if I am? Would it kill you to admit that you're human once in a while?

"Do you really think I'm cold and uncaring?" She heard the wobble in her voice; hated how weak she sounded. How unsure he made her feel.

Draco let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. "No, Hermione I don't."

"Then why are you saying these things to me?"

"Because I'm a selfish git...and I want you to be one, too." His usually perfect smile was lopsided, weighed down with effort and pain that she had most likely caused. It pierced her heart.

"You aren't selfish," she said, her voice strong with sincerity and conviction. "You created my perfect job. That's the most generous thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You deserve it…and more."

"No, I don't."

"Yes. You do."

Hermione swallowed, unable to stand the expression on his face. It was like staring into the tear-filled eyes of Ginny that day before the party at Malfoy Manor. But she couldn't dismiss him as easily as she did Ginny. Not after spending the last three weeks agonizing over all her dreams of family and career. Thanks to Draco, she was now half way there. In the silence, she could hear her heart whispering that maybe she should ask Draco to give her the other half as well.

She tried to look away, to escape the intensity of his gray gaze, but he wouldn't let her. His hand was insistent, forcing her to see him, to see what he was trying to say.

"Hermione, it's alright to want those things for yourself."

She swallowed, nodding her head without thinking. It was all so tempting, looking at him looking at her as if he would give her the world. He was so close, his fingers pushing away the stray curls from her face.

"Hermione, tell me what you want."

All she could see was his face.

"I…I want-"

A loud cry shattered the stillness, and Draco turned away with a strangled groan. "Yes, Teddy?" he said, voice curt.

Hermione's brain felt fuzzy, and she slowly processed what had just happened. What had almost happened. Then it hit her full force.

Had she seriously considered telling Draco she wanted marriage and kids, and with him? Was she absolutely insane? They weren't even dating. More importantly, she didn't even really like him. Not that way. What was wrong with her?! Did she want to permanently ruin her friendship with Draco?

Hermione pushed herself off the ground, thankful for Teddy's interruption. "Is he alright?"

"_He's _fine," Draco said, still sounding annoyed.

The sun was disappearing, and it was growing darker by the second. There was no point in staying here any longer.

She stood to her feet, and after a few moments, Draco followed her.

"Hermy," a tired Teddy said, reaching out to her. Picking him up from the ground, she held the boy close to her as they walked back to Andromeda's house in agonizing silence. The whole way, her stomach felt like it was in her throat. If he even had an inkling of what she was currently feeling towards him, she thought she just might curl up on the floor and die of humiliation.

When they reached the house, she thought she might be able to escape him, but Draco followed her up into bathroom. Teddy needed a bath and to brush his teeth. She got ready to do those very things, but Draco took the boy from her.

"Let me take care of this."

She nodded her head and left, making her way to Teddy's bedroom. She pulled out his pajamas and waited for the guys to return, trying not to think of what had almost happened at the park.

Draco returned with Teddy wrapped up into a towel. Once he was dressed, they put him to bed, both watching the curly-haired blond boy as he stared up sleepily at them. One moment his eyes were gray, and he'd blink, and they'd be gold.

It was really too much to take. Playing parent with Draco. Practically living out one of her dreams. If she didn't leave, she just might break.

She opened her mouth to speak, a nervous habit she could never rid herself of, but Draco's finger was at her lips, silencing her. His gaze drifted over to Teddy, who was now slumbering peacefully.

She didn't need another excuse to flee from the mostly dark room, where Teddy's nightlight was making Draco look like some kind of golden-haired angel, or worse, a caring, doting father.

She entered Andromeda's living room, torn between sitting on the couch or the recliner. He would wonder why she sat by herself, since they always sat next to each other. But she was on the edge of losing her sanity.

Sanity or uncomfortable couch and Draco?

Sanity or Draco?

The decision shouldn't be this hard!

And in the end, it wasn't. Draco sprawled across Andromeda's couch, taking up all the space.

Sanity, it was. Hermione dragged herself over to the recliner and sat down, wondering when being in her right mind had started losing its appeal.

"So, Hermione, how was your first week of work?" Draco asked.

"Good."

"Just good?"

"Really good."

"That's...good."

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Draco finally sat up, beckoning her to join him. She didn't want to get up, but she pushed herself off the chair and plopped down beside him. He slung his arm around the back of the couch and began playing with her hair. Hermione's spine instantly straightened.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

It wasn't like he was touching her like she was his girlfriend or something. And what was up with that? None of her other guy (or girl) friends were this touchy-feely. But they probably had never been involved in friendships that were devoid of all human contact either. She knew the other Slytherins. They were a pretty cold-blooded brood, and it wouldn't have surprised her if the only real affectionate human contact Draco had gotten was from his mother. Maybe that's why he was always was touching her.

And how was she supposed to say anything about it now? This was normal for them, and she hadn't even noticed it until that party at Malfoy Manor. If she told him to stop, he'd ask why, and what could she say? _Because, Draco, I seem to have developed a crush on you, and just being in close proximity to you sends shivers down my spine. And when you're touching me and asking me to reveal my innermost desires, I just want to blurt out that it's you, even though I have no sane reason to. _

No, that wouldn't do at all. First, it sounded so horribly clichéd, like it came straight from one of those ridiculous novels that Narcissa always read. Hermione should be embarrassed for even thinking such romantic banalities. And second, she could never ever say that. Setting aside that this was just a silly crush, if she were rejected by Draco… She didn't even want to think about it.

"You seem tense," he said. His fingers began moving against her neck, and whatever his intention, it had the opposite effect. This massage was _not_ relaxing. Far from it.

"We never got to finish our conversation earlier," he said.

Uh oh.

This could only end badly. She had to leave.

"Can it wait till later? I'm really tired" _Lie._ She was so full of nervous energy there was no way she would be able to go to sleep. She'd probably be pacing the floors for hours. "and…I still have a lot to do tonight." _Lie._ The efficient machine that was the Malfoy Foundation ensured that she only had to bring work home when she wanted to. "Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow." _Lie._ If Hermione had her choice, they would never have this discussion again.

_Hermione Granger, you are a lying liar and a cowardly coward._

As she continued her mental castigation, Draco stood to his feet, mouth twisted in a smile. "It's not important. In fact, forget I mentioned it. And as for hanging out, I'm actually busy for the rest of the weekend."

He had plans this weekend? He never had plans on the weekend, except with her. "What do you have to do?" she asked, her stomach sinking like a stone.

"Go into the office. Work with Sharon on a few things for a presentation I have on Monday."

Hermione tamped down the instant surge of jealousy she felt at the other witch's name. If he wanted to spend time with Sharon, so be it. Besides, she was his secretary. If Draco was in the office, she probably had to be there too. Even though Sharon had nothing going on in her empty little head besides snagging Draco for herself and couldn't possibly help him in any business related way…But that was neither here nor there.

"Alright. Well, tell Sharon I say hi." And that I hope she gets abducted by an angry elevator troll.

Draco took a step forward, and then stopped, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He walked her to the front entrance. "See you at work on Monday," he said, then softly closed the door.

"Bye," Hermione said to the empty air.

She walked to the apparition point outside the gate, trying not to care that she hadn't gotten her goodbye hug.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	15. Grim Grotto

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I apologize in advance. This isn't my best effort. Things feel like they are in stasis, but if you are patient, I promise big changes/revelations/explanations/whatever in the second part of this chapter. I have a good sized chunk of it already written, so you shouldn't have to wait too long for it.

If you don't know of the island I mention in this chapter, you should run a google image search on it and on Blue Grotto. It's absolutely beautiful, and you can see what I have in mind for the locale.

Also, I promise to reply to the reviews to the last chapter soon. I'm just too tired right now to do it. Thanks for understanding!

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**Unfortunate Event Eleven:**

**The Grim Grotto, Part One**

* * *

Hermione pushed open the door to her room with a bang. It did nothing to relieve the annoyance that was simmering below her surface. She stared as the door rocked back and forth on its hinges, feeling slightly guilty for her outburst. It wasn't even her door. Shutting it softly, she leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths.

Inhale.

_It was just a meeting._

Exhale.

_It actually went rather well, all things considered._

Unsteady inhalation.

_Stupid mermaids._

Semi-loud scream.

Needless to say, her breathing techniques didn't really help.

Flinging her briefcase on the bed, Hermione stalked over to the closet and pulled out a light and airy sundress. It didn't give her the same burst of joy it had when she had purchased it a few days ago.

She let her skirt slide off her body, leaving it on the ground where it had pooled around her feet. Making quick work of the buttons down her shirtfront, she shrugged out of both jacket and top. They joined the steadily growing heap of clothes on the floor, along with a pair of pantyhose and her heels.

She had _seriously_ overdressed for the meeting.

Grabbing her dress and holding it to her underwear-clad body, she walked over to the mirror. Lowering the dress for a second, she analyzed her reflection, but soon gave up.

Slipping the light cotton shift over her head, she cinched the bright blue sash around her waist. Feeling slightly better, she rolled her neck to release further tension. What she needed was to forget that the meeting had even happened. There were so many other fun things to do, and she was not about to let the previous hours ruin her enjoyment.

Grabbing her sunglasses, Hermione padded barefoot across her hotel room, pushing aside the sheer curtain separating her from a most breathtaking view.

The hotel was built into the Italian hillside and stepping onto the balcony was almost like stepping out onto air or into another world, but without any fear of falling or flying. The sun reflected off the waves of the sea, which shimmered like liquid abalone. Hermione raised herself on her tiptoes, extending her arms out wide to the sides.

Hermione had been thrilled to discover that her first business trip was to Italy. She had found out the Monday after that night at the park with Draco and Teddy. That night had really taken its toll, and she was thankful for the needed space from Draco.

That was until she learned he would be coming along.

The project he had been working on with Sharon over that weekend had actually been a proposal for a company whose headquarters were on the Mediterranean island of Capri. Being the thoughtful wizard that he was, Draco thought Hermione should come with him and make inroads with the mermaid population there. One of his contacts set up a meeting with the mysterious underwater citizens, who rarely interacted with the outside world. It was a great opportunity, and she would be stupid to let it pass her by.

Of course, this particular species of mermaid had to dislike females. Close cousins to the Sirens, the Caprese mermaids did not have voices that would drive men wild with deadly desire, but their beauty was legendary. So were their flirtatious natures. Much more receptive to the opposite sex, Hermione needed all the male wit and charm she could have at her disposal, and as Draco reminded her, no one possessed those attributes quite like him. She had no intention of asking for his help, but he had volunteered himself, and since she did not want to inform him that she was insanely irritated by the idea of him becoming attracted to one of the beautiful mermaids, she had to play along.

Their meeting had happened earlier in the day and had actually gone very well if she were being honest. The mermaids were open to further discussions in the future (but only if Draco were there). It was about what Hermione had hoped for, though she could have done without all the flirting between Draco and the mermaids…among other things she hoped never to see again.

Hermione inhaled deeply, forgetting her silly jealousy and ignoring the fact that she still hadn't figured out a way of dealing with her crush on Draco. Closing her eyes, she savored the way the salty breeze tickled her nose and stirred the cotton of her sundress. The sunshine pierced her clothes, warming her skin through and through. For that brief second in time, everything was perfect.

"Enjoying yourself?" Draco said from some place within her room.

Instantly the tension returned to her body. Dropping her hands to her side, Hermione felt oddly vulnerable, caught in such a relaxed state (and with a messy room to boot). She refused to turn around, too embarrassed to meet Draco's gaze.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so beautiful," she said.

She heard his steps as he walked across her room, saw him enter her vision as he leaned back against the balcony railing and faced her. "Neither have I."

Seeing Draco framed by the green and blue backdrop, the sun shining down lovingly on his golden head, Hermione wondered if she had spoken too soon. Pulling her sunglasses from where they hung on the neck of her dress, she put them on, hiding her eyes from the dazzling sight.

"You should be more careful, Draco. You could fall over the side."

He smiled at her, clearly not alarmed. "If I did, I'm sure you'd dive in and save me."

Hermione shook her head, knowing there was no way she would move closer to the balcony's ledge. "And I'm just as sure that I wouldn't."

"Then I suppose I'd be at the mercy of the mermaids."

Ah, yes, the mermaids. Her meeting over, Hermione had no wish to see them again anytime soon. Or think of them for that matter. They had one day left on their trip, and she was not about to spend it talking about those watery bints.

"They'd probably feed you to their grindylows," Hermione said, probably more spitefully than she should have.

"I think I'd make out alright."

No doubt he would. They'd probably keep Draco as one of their pets.

Not noticing her envy, Draco said, "So, what would you like to do for the rest of the afternoon?"

"I was thinking of catching up on some reading."

"Business?"

"Nope. It's for fun."

"I didn't drag you all the way to Capri for you to spend time reading in the hotel room. We're going to the beach."

The part of the island they were staying at was relatively secluded, spelled against Muggle entrance. The beach would not be crowded, and the sound of the waves lapping the shore would not distract her. "I suppose that could work."

"I'll meet you in the lobby in five minutes."

Once Draco had left, Hermione picked up her book from her nightstand and set it aside. Rummaging through her toiletries, she found her bottle of sun block and put a generous amount on her skin. For good measure, she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. Slipping on her sandals, she took her book and towel and went to the lobby.

Draco was waiting, clothed in a t-shirt and swim trunks. Well, that was a relief. She had worried he would be wearing a Speedo. His towel was folded under his arm.

"Nice hat," Draco said, his finger flicking the wide, floppy brim. There were two ribbons hanging down from the sides, which he took and pulled on.

"Those are so my hat won't blow away," Hermione said, defensively.

"I see." Draco took the material and tied it in a bow, securing it under her chin. Offering his elbow, he said, "Ready for the beach, Miss Granger?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

Since the hotel was on the beach, they were down there in minutes. Spreading her towel out, Hermione lay on her back, using her book to block out the sun and Draco.

Of course Draco could not stand not being the center of her attention. His shirt fell to the ground, hitting her arm on its descent and kicking up sand.

So now he was just inches away from her.

Shirtless.

No big deal. If she didn't look.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"I'll bet you are," Hermione said, brushing off the sand from her towel, before burying her face even deeper in her book.

She heard the sand shift as he settled down next to her, heard him slathering sun block over himself. Her eyes began to slide off the page over to her left, where Draco was doing who knew what in whatever beautiful way he chose to do it, but she did not allow their betrayal. Forcing her gaze to the page, she reread the sentence before her for possibly the tenth time.

_When two bulls lower heads and horns and charge in deadly combat they gore one another, bathing necks and humps in sheets of blood, and the whole woodland bellows._

Not the loveliest image, but that was kind of the point. As far as she was concerned, the more blood and guts, the better.

When she heard him finally settle down on the sand, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Before she could finish it, he asked, "Do you mind?"

Hermione slowly turned her head, dreading to meet the sight she knew was awaiting her. Shirtless Draco was lying on his stomach, face turned in the direction opposite to her. His hand, though, was stretched in her direction, holding out a bottle of sun block.

She thought she knew what he wanted, but her interests were best served by playing stupid. "What?"

"What does it look like?"

It looked like he wanted her to rub sun block over his bare back, that's what it looked like. But that would be crazy. After all, he was her boss. Really, she should sue for sexual harassment. Of course, harassment implied an unwelcome advance. Would the Wizengamot really be convinced that she had rubbed sun block on Draco against her will? She wasn't even sure she could convince herself of it.

"Can't you put it on yourself?" she asked, gripping her book with sweaty hands.

"Can't reach."

"Maybe we could transfigure something into a beach umbrella."

"I want to feel the sunshine on my skin."

"Wouldn't the sun block defeat the purpose then? I mean, it's sun _block. _The name inherently state-"

He waved his hand in disregard. "Do you see how fair I am, Hermione? If I don't wear it, I'll burn. Or worse, freckle."

Draco shuddered beside her. He must not have remembered his euphoria elixir-induced infatuation with the ones on her nose.

"I thought you liked freckles," Hermione mumbled below her breath.

"On you. Not me." He wasn't supposed to hear her, but his comment slightly mollified her.

Draco turned over on his side, his left arm draped over his chest. She made sure her eyes remained fixed on his. Her imagination was already vivid enough. It didn't need encouragement.

"Why are you afraid to touch me, Hermione? It's not like I'm covered with snakes."

If only he were! Then maybe she wouldn't be reduced to a slobbering idiot if she looked at him.

Hermione's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, making speech temporarily impossible. She wasn't afraid of touching him, per se. It wasn't like there would be some kind of electric shock that would stop her heart the instant her hand was in contact with his back. At least, that was what she assumed. It was more what would happen after she touched him that scared her.

Hermione managed to finally answer his question, "I'm not afraid."

"Then stop being such a prude and put the lotion on."

"I'm not a prude."

He didn't argue back, but it probably had something to do with her taking the sun block from his hand.

Hermione shook the bottle, telling herself that the viscous fluid needed to be thoroughly mixed to work effectively. Wouldn't want Draco to get melanoma.

She twisted off the lid and looked down into the bottle. Nope, not ready. Recapping it, she shook the bottle some more. It needed thirty more shakes. At least.

"Anytime now," Draco said, lying once again on his stomach.

She doubted he would care that she had only mixed the sun block twenty-three times. Popping open the lid, she squirted the sun block onto his back. At first, she started a straight line down his spine, but that called too much attention to the way the muscles of his lats swelled from the center and tapered down at his waist.

Merlin, he had a beautiful back. In fact, it was too beautiful. She needed to mess it up so it couldn't bother her anymore.

Trying to cover as much of his back as possible, she made a smiley face, which she embellished with hearts and shooting stars. By the time she was finished, his skin was covered with the kinds of doodles she'd make in the margins of her journals.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

Hermione dropped the bottle, startled. In her ignorant bliss, she had almost forgotten he was there. "Nothing."

"While I'm sure using my back as a canvas for your little works of art is highly entertaining, I'd appreciate if you would just rub the lotion in. I can feel myself burning, and if I turn pink, I can promise you there will be hell to pay."

Hermione pursed her lips, unimpressed. His threats meant nothing to her.

But a burned Draco would probably force her to rub aloe vera on him.

For her own sanity, this could not be a repeat performance.

Hermione looked at her hands poised over Draco's back. They were trembling, but thankfully he couldn't see. She softly patted his back, trying not to touch his skin, just the lotion. All her pretty little pictures were now ruined.

"Hermione, just rub the lotion in."

She could do this. After all, she was Hermione Granger. Gryffindor Extraordinaire and member of the Order of the Phoenix. She had faced countless Death Eaters. Survived being tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange and Cormac McLaggen. Surely she could handle touching Draco's bare back. It was just Draco, right?

Right!

Still, it couldn't hurt if she thought she was touching someone else.

Screwing up her face and closing her eyes, she told herself, "You are touching Goyle's back, not Draco's. It does not feel nice under your fingers; it feels very, very gross. It's actually rather squishy, not at all like the back of someone who's been playing Quidditch for years. It does not feel smooth and perfect, but is hairy and covered with pimples. Yes, it is the vilest thing I have ever touched in my life."

It was over in seconds.

"There. All done."

Her Herculean labor completed, Hermione dropped back down on her towel and picked up her book as quickly as she could.

Draco turned over on his side, propping his head up on his hand. "Do you need me to put any on you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I already put some on in the hotel room."

Before he could tell her she didn't put any on his neck, Hermione began reading under her breath.

"When two bulls lower heads and horns and charge in deadly combat they gore one another, bathing necks and humps in sheets of blood, and the whole woodland bellows".

"That's a bit more violent than your usual reading," Draco said, voice muffled by his towel.

"I thought it fitting for this trip."

"Are you expecting to gore a bull?"

"Hardly. It's Virgil's _Aeneid_. It about the hero Aeneas coming to Italy and starting what would become the Roman Empire."

"History book? That doesn't sound like pleasure reading to me."

"It's more myth than history. And I happen to like mythology a lot."

Draco opened one of his eyes, squinting from the sun. "Why?"

Hermione thought about it for a second, then decided, "I guess it's because when I was little, it was the first thing I read that seemed magical to me. I wanted to be one of those goddesses, flying about and turning my enemies into pigs. "

"And now you are."

"Right. Except for the flying. And the pig-making. Oh, and the part about being a goddess."

"If you don't learn how to accept a compliment, eventually people will stop giving them."

"I wasn't aware you were complimenting me."

"You never are. Luckily for you, I find it amusing."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to her book.

"Hermione, read your book to me."

"But I'm near the end."

"Doesn't matter. I'm about to fall asleep anyway."

"Then why are –"

"Just read."

"Fine." And sure enough, he didn't even make it past five minutes before he was out cold.

After that, she didn't get much reading done. Now that Draco was asleep and couldn't see her, her eyes weren't content to read about Aeneas' exploits in Italy.

Scanning the back half of his body, Hermione honestly admitted that he was probably the handsomest man she knew. The admission wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. In fact, she found it comforting. It was perfectly normal to feel attracted to an attractive and single man. Especially when he wasn't a total jerk. Any other girl in her situation would respond the same way. In other words, like a total spazz.

Perhaps she was overreacting about her feelings towards him. Did she really need to try to get rid of them? Her efforts didn't seem to be working, and focusing on them seemed to only make them worse. Maybe if she just accepted that he was a good looking guy, and that his appeal was just physical, eventually her feelings would fade

And it wasn't like he could read her mind. She was safe to respectfully admire. When it got deeper than that, then she would actually be in trouble. But she couldn't love Draco Malfoy, so she had nothing to worry about.

Having made peace with herself, Hermione was able to read again.

When Draco finally woke up, it was just after five o'clock.

He flipped over on his back, stretching his arms over his head. Hermione snuck a quick peak. These tiny steps, she told herself, were required to desensitize herself to him.

"Sleeping Beauty finally wakes," she said.

Draco looked at his watch, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "It was only forty-five minutes." He stood up and stretched some more. And she looked some more.

"You feel like a dip?" he asked, staring out towards the water.

"Sorry. Can't. Didn't bring my swim suit."

"You came to Capri without a suit?"

"I had planned on working, not swimming."

Draco merely shook his head. Then he ran out into the surf.

Setting her book down, she watched him dive in. After bearing the sun's rays for nearly an hour, she had to admit, it looked refreshing.

"You should come in," he called out to her.

"Maybe I'll stick my feet in." Standing up, she walked over, letting the waves lick at her feet. The water was warm, but cool in comparison to her overheated skin. It felt heavenly. She moved across the beach, advancing and retreating depending on the size of the wave coming towards her. Once she had figured out where to stand without getting too wet, she let her toes dig into the sand, enjoying the way it kept slipping out from under her feet.

She was so distracted by the water, she hadn't noticed when Draco had disappeared from sight.

"Draco?" she called out. Then a little louder.

He was probably playing a trick on her, that was all. That didn't stop her stomach from plunging to her toes. "Draco, where are you?" she yelled, her voice sounding close to a scream. She ran out farther into the water, soaking the hem of her dress.

And then she was lifted bodily in the air and flung over his shoulder. Draco was wet and now so was her dress, but she didn't think of those things. She was too upset. "You idiot!" she said, pounding her fists on his back until it turned pink. "Why did you do that?! I thought you drowned. And stop spinning, you're making me dizzy."

He did stop turning around, but he wouldn't put her down. "Drown? Maybe get abducted by mermaids, but not drown."

That was even worse!

"I'm sick of those stupid mermaids."

"Be careful. They might hear you."

"Let them hear! I hate them!"

"Is that really something the head of the Malfoy Foundation should be saying? I thought you wanted cordial relations between all beasts, beings, and spirits."

Cordial relations, yes. But that was not what the mermaids had wanted with Draco. More like marital relations.

She knew he wasn't upset by her outburst, but he had a point. She probably shouldn't be saying those things, but she was still upset. "Yeah, well, it wasn't like I was even needed at that meeting"

"I thought you made great progress."

Hermione snorted. "Please. More like _you_ made great progress."

"Do I detect some jealousy?"

YES! But probably not in the way he thought. And thank goodness for that. Playing along she said, "It's not my fault I wasn't born a man! They wouldn't even look at me."

From her perch on Draco's shoulders, she watched him pass by their belongings.

"Hey! Aren't you going to put me down? Or get our stuff?" she asked, squirming the closer they got to the hotel's entrance.

"No."

"But my book! Draco, put me down!"

She would have kept on protesting, but he had opened the door to the hotel lobby. Not wanting anyone to recognize her in such a compromising position, she buried her face into his back. Immediately thinking better of it, she pulled the folds of her hat around her face instead. In an effort to not draw attention, Hermione stopped struggling. Pretended she had died from mortification. It wasn't that difficult.

Instead of going straight up the stairs to their rooms, Draco stopped at the check-in counter. And now whoever was at the desk was getting an eyeful of her bum. So much for going unnoticed.

"Bounasera, signor Malfoy. Did you and signorina Granger enjoy the beach?"

The man knew her name! She wanted to groan, but quickly remembered that corpses didn't do that.

"Yes, it's lovely," Draco said, "Unfortunately, in my haste to get back to the hotel, I left a few items out there."

The man at the desk chuckled in amusement. "Understandable. Would you like me to send someone to retrieve your things?"

"That's precisely what I had in mind."

"Anything else, signor?"

"No, that will be all. Grazie, Gianni."

"Prego."

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Hermione hissed, "Was that really necessary?"

"I thought you didn't care what other people thought."

"This is different. All the other times we were acting normally. This, well, this looks scandalous."

Draco stopped and set her down in front of her room. She swayed on her feet, lightheaded from all the blood flowing to her brain. He didn't seem at all embarrassed. "We know it's perfectly innocent," he said.

Hermione shook her head, scolding him lightly, "I remember you promising at the very beginning that you wouldn't do anything that intentionally made people think we were together." People like her! All this weird pretending was beginning to hurt her head. And her heart.

"How would me escorting you back to your room give people the wrong impression?"

"Is that what you call that? You had me slung over your shoulder like a caveman."

"I've deposited you safely at your doorstep and made sure that your belongings have been seen to. I have been nothing but the perfect gentleman."

As if to prove his point further, Draco took her hand, bowing over it, before placing a chaste kiss on her fingers. "Miss Granger, I did greatly enjoy our excursion on the beach. Pray, tell me that you are available later in the evening, and that you will bestow upon this, your humble servant, the pleasure and honor of your company at supper."

Hermione snatched her hand back. "Oh shut up," she said, trying not to laugh or be bothered by how charming he was when he was acting silly.

Leaning against the door frame, Draco's voice reverted back to a less distinguished and more normal tone. "Do you want to go out to dinner? Or would you rather order in and eat in your room?"

Hmmm. Dinner out in the safety of strangers, or here, in her hotel room watching the sun set on one of the most romantic places in the world?

"We should go out to eat," Hermione answered.

Draco lazily pushed himself up from against the door. "Alright. I know this restaurant right on the beach. I think you'll like the view, and we can watch the sun set from there."

Super.

"Will you be ready in thirty minutes?" Draco asked.

How about never?

"No." Her answer came out more like a whimper than a word.

"Alright. I'll be back in an hour. See you then," Draco said, before heading to his room.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	16. Grim Grotto, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Um, here it is. Don't kill me.

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Eleven:**

**Grim Grotto, Part Two**

* * *

Exactly one hour later, Hermione heard a rapping at her hotel door.

Taking a last look in the mirror, she smoothed out her now dry dress and tamed hair.

It would have to do. Slipping on her sandals, she left her room.

Draco looked her over, and she decided to return the favor. He was wearing jeans and a white polo shirt. They matched.

"Hungry?" Draco asked.

"Starving actually."

Luckily, the restaurant wasn't far from the hotel they were staying at, and they made the trip in no time at all. Expecting a very elegant food establishment, Hermione was surprised when Draco ushered her into a small mom and pop joint. They were quickly seated and given menus and wine.

Hermione looked warily at the blood red liquid. Would it really be wise to drink it, given how lately she always seemed to feel slightly tipsy around Draco to begin with? Probably not. She pushed the wineglass away and asked for some water.

"You're really going to drink water?" Draco asked. The look of disbelief mirrored that of their waiter.

"What's wrong with water?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"We're in Italy. Land of Bacchus. God of the vine… inspirer of ecstasy," Draco winked at her and pushed the wine back to her. After taking their orders, the waiter walked away with a smirk on his face.

"Also inspirer of madness," Hermione reminded before she took a small sip. The alcohol burned down her throat, warming her insides. But she knew that with her, a little bit went a long way, so she pushed the drink away again, refusing to have any more.

"You could use a little madness in your life," Draco said, smiling at her.

If Draco knew that at that moment madness was equivalent to pulling him across the table and kissing him smack dab in the middle of the restaurant, Hermione doubted he would be suggesting such things.

Yes, a little madness would set her up nicely, before it ruined her life. Nope, no madness then. She needed all her wits about her. And she had a really _low_ tolerance for alcohol.

"So, what do you want to do during our free day?"

Hermione leaned in, suddenly excited. "I know it's a bit far, but I was hoping we could go to Venice. I've never been. Is that OK?"

"Whatever you want. After all, you successfully negotiated with the Caprese mermaids. How many women can say that?"

None. Not even her. No matter how Draco tried to spin it, that meeting would have been a disaster without him. But Hermione was determined to enjoy her night. That meant no more mermaids and biting her tongue.

Hermione clapped her hands together, thrilled. "Thank you so much. I can't wait."

As they made more detailed plans for their Saturday excursion to Italy's City of Light, the waiter returned with their food.

"So, have you gotten a gift for Pansy's wedding?" Hermione asked, twirling her fork in her pasta.

From the look on his face, it appeared that Draco had not. "When is that again?" he asked.

"Next weekend."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't understand her rush to marry. They've only been engaged for a month. That's hardly enough time for me to get her a present. Or to plan a proper wedding."

"She sent the places where they are registered with the invitation. It's not that difficult to figure out."

"I didn't say it was difficult; it's just bothersome. I'll suppose I'll have Sharon purchase the most expensive gift when I get back on Monday."

Ugh. Sharon. Hermione had another person to add to her "Does Not Exist" list.

"So…are you going with anyone to the wedding?"

Draco shrugged. "I hadn't thought of it. Why? Do you need a date?"

Of course the question shocked her, and of course he asked it as she was trying to swallow a large piece of shrimp. She was too busy trying not to choke on it to answer him. Grabbing the nearest liquid, Hermione downed the rest of her wine.

Draco looked over at her, alarmed. "Are you alright?" Scooting his chair closer to her, he gently rubbed her back.

She was still coughing, but managed a feeble, "Yes." Her face felt flushed though, from the alcohol and the humiliation.

"Good. So do you want to go to Pansy's wedding together?"

Hermione cleared her throat, still having difficulty swallowing. And breathing. Draco was still patting her on the back. "Sure, why not?"

He leaned in, smiling. "That's a relief. Now that Weasley's single, I don't want him getting any ideas concerning me."

"Oh. I had forgotten about Ron." He and Lavender had broken up. Again. But this time Lavender had said they were over. She'd never done that before, and Ron was still feeling pretty miserable about it. He probably wouldn't want to be at the wedding by himself, surrounded by all the happy couples. "Poor guy."

The sound of Draco's chair scooting away woke Hermione from her sympathies. "Don't feel too sorry for him. I'm sure they'll get back together soon," he said.

When Hermione had talked with Ron last, he hadn't seemed so hopeful about a possible reunion. "Maybe. Maybe not. I think Lavender is really upset with him."

"Should she be?" Draco asked, taking a small sip of his wine.

"I don't know. Ron is Ron. I'm sure he'll eventually want to settle down, but it might not be soon enough for Lavender."

"You know, he might decide he'd rather be with you."

"I doubt it. I think we both know that ship sailed a long time ago. He's moved on."

"And have you?"

_Yes, Draco. I seem to have developed feelings for the guy sitting across the table from me, who just so happens to be you, as well as the nosiest git in the world. _

"We've already had this discussion. Of course I have. A very long time ago. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Since you broke up he's dated Lavender, and you..." Draco didn't finish the sentence, but she knew what he was thinking.

"Yes, I know, I'm pathetic and haven't dated anyone else. Thanks for pointing that out."

"I didn't mean it that way. You aren't pathetic. You are a successful, intelligent, beautiful young woman, which makes the fact that you aren't dating suspicious."

Whatever. "Well, at least we can be pathetic together," she said, sarcastically. And because she really wanted to know, she asked, "And why aren't you dating anyone else? Who haven't you gotten over? Millicent? Astoria?"

"I was never in love with someone."

"Neither was I!"

"Glad that's settled then," Draco said, smiling at her over his wine glass. And just like that, he was back to normal and Hermione was royally confused. And annoyed. She should have known he was just trying to rile her up. It seemed to be one of his favorite hobbies, and usually she played along. Maybe it was the wine that was making her so disagreeable and moody.

Hermione had a few minutes of peace, during which she finished up her food. And she didn't even choke once. Quite the accomplishment.

When the waiter asked if they wanted dessert, Hermione was too stuffed to take another bite. Draco, however, ordered a chocolate and almond torte. It was beautiful, in all its chocolately and almondy wonderfulness, and even though she was full, Hermione eyed it enviously.

"Want some?" Draco asked, pulling the fork from his teeth. His tongue flicked out over his lips, and Hermione hoped she wasn't drooling. Dessert had never looked so good.

"Alright. But just a bite. I've eaten too much as it is."

Reaching for his fork, she noticed he wasn't giving it to her. Instead, Draco was bringing his Torta Caprese to her mouth.

Did he really think she'd let him fork-feed her? She was slightly tipsy, not rip-roaring drunk. "Thank you, but I can feed myself."

"Yes, but not very well. You almost died choking on your shrimp earlier. I'm not willing to take any more chances, especially since you are the only thing protecting me from Weasley's advances."

"Hey, that's not trarghh-"

The jerk had slipped the food into her open, protesting mouth. Hermione was so tempted to spit it out, but that was hardly lady like. And the dessert was delicious. She would only be punishing herself by not swallowing.

"Hmmm." It was so yummy.

"Good, isn't it?"

Hermione just shrugged. "I've had better."

"Sure you have." And then he ate some more, clearly enjoying torturing her. When there was only one bite left, he pushed his plate over to her. "I suppose you can finish this."

Hermione didn't touch it. Not while he was watching. But the second he turned his back to ask the waiter for their check, the rest of the dessert magically disappeared. Best magic trick she had ever performed.

The sun was setting over the water when they exited the restaurant. Hermione was content to watch from the sand, but Draco had another idea.

Taking her wand, he transfigured a shell into a little canoe and some twigs into oars. If he had known about Cinderella, she would have made a joke about him being her Fairy Godmother, but the humor would have been lost on him. Death Eaters and Disney movies probably didn't mix, so he most likely missed out on that experience growing up.

He offered her a hand to help her inside the boat, but Hermione hung back. "I'm not sure. It looks like it will sink the second were out to sea."

"Good thing you can swim then, isn't it?"

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. Now get in."

"Fine, but if this sinks, you will never hear the end of it."

"Your threat has lost much of its potency, since I've long been desensitized to your nagging."

Hermione smacked him playfully on the arm as he gathered his oars and pushed off from the beach. "Take that back."

"Fine. I will never grow accustomed to your incessant harping. Better?"

"Much."

He rowed about twenty yards from the shore, heading in a northwestern direction toward a curious looking outcropping of rocks.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, both excited and nervous. She hadn't read about anything like this in the travel guide books she had borrowed from the library.

"You'll see."

Sensing she wouldn't be getting any more answers, Hermione leaned back into the canoe, watching the sun set behind Draco's head. It was magnificent, and she decided that her hypothetical honeymoon would no longer take place in Athens, but on the island of Capri.

They reached the rock formation just before the sun was swallowed up by the sea, but Draco did not slow down. Hermione was about to scream for him to look out when they went straight through the stone.

"Disillusionment charm," Draco explained, though Hermione wasn't really listening. She was too busy ooh-ing and ah-ing over the glorious waters. Now that she had passed through the barrier, she could see all various openings in the rock. The last remnants of the day and the glow of the full moon above filtered through them, lighting up the cavern in the most beautiful shades of emerald and sapphire she had ever seen.

"Everyone talks about the Blue Grotto, but that's because they haven't visited this one," Draco said, smiling smugly.

No kidding. This place looked like something out of movie. One with lots of romance and a handsome leading man.

"It's gorgeous, but it's a shame that only the wizards know it's here."

Draco shook his head.

"They don't know about this place? Then how…" Ah. The mermaids. Of course. But…"How do you know about it then?"

"The mermaids."

Why did she even ask? They seemed to be the answer to every question. Why is the sky blue? The mermaids. Why do objects fall to the earth? Nope, it's not gravity, but the mermaids.

"Are you sure we should stay? They might get upset we're here." Or rather, that Hermione was here. They'd probably throw parties if they found him in their little Rock of Romance.

"They wouldn't have told me about it if they didn't expect me to check it out."

Silly Hermione. They'd probably show up any second, and she did _not_ want to be anywhere near here when they did. And that applied for Draco as well. "I think we should leave," she said.

"Not until we get a better look around."

Draco rowed farther into the grotto, his oars cutting through the water the only sound.

Hermione sat up straight in the boat, no longer so at ease.

"Relax, Hermione." And as if to demonstrate what that would look like, Draco let go of the oars and dipped his fingers into the water. "It's warm. Do you want to swim?"

"I already told you I didn't bring a suit."

Seeing Draco's smile, Hermione instantly shook her head. "No. Absolutely no skinny-dipping."

"Is your mind always in the gutter? I was simply thinking of transfiguring your sundress into a tasteful bikini."

"If you so much as think of doing that for another second, I will leave."

"And where will you go?"

"I'll apparate back to England if I have to."

"From Italy?"

"It can be done, and if you try to put me in a bikini, I can guarantee that I will have sufficient determination to make my way home without being splinched."

"Alright. No bikinis. But what's your opinion on a modest one-piece?"

Hermione was just about to emphatically state her answer, but a small splashing sound diverted her attention.

"Draco," she whispered, eyes wide. "I knew we weren't supposed to be here."

"It's alright. Look, it's just a mermaid." Gesturing with his hand, Hermione turned around in the boat to see what he was pointing to.

In the middle of the grotto was a raised platform of rock not five feet away from them. The moon's rays filtered through an opening at the top of the grotto, virtually spotlighting one of her most favorite magical creatures. Her tail was white, slicing the silvery light into a spectrum of color. The lapis-lazuli blue of the water reflected off her still glistening skin, and her waist length black hair, decorated with white shells and starfish, fell in waves down her front.

"Why hello, Draco," the creature purred. Hermione wanted to gag at the mermaid's poor imitation of a cat. Really, who talked like that? No normal girl, that's for sure.

The silence stretched as Hermione waited to be acknowledged, but it never happened.

"Good evening, Urania," Draco said.

Lifting one of her slender arms, Urania raised a comb of coral to the ends of her hair. She kept up this pretense for a few seconds before flipping her hair behind her shoulders, revealing one of the biggest sets of breasts Hermione had ever seen.

Whenever Hermione had imagined the underwater women, they always had shells or at least really long hair covering those bits. Like in that Disney movie. Needless to say, the earlier meeting with the mermaids had come as quite a shock. All day long, she had been strenuously trying to block out that particular, horrible memory of being surrounded by a bevy of topless mermaids.

So much for those efforts.

An ample bosom seemed to be a genetic feature of this species of mermaid, along with an unbelievable exhibitionist streak. Being shy and modest when it came to her own body (looking at herself naked in the mirror was avoided like a staring contest with Medusa), Hermione couldn't understand how these creatures were so willing to flaunt their nakedness.

Blushing wildly, Hermione stared down into the water. She almost reached out her hands to cover Draco's eyes, but managed to resist, instead clasping them tightly in her lap.

"Fancy a swim?" Urania cooed from her perch, stretching her arms above her head, which Hermione saw reflected in the sea's surface. "The water's warm, but if you're feeling cold, I can take care of that."

Shameless hussy!

It wasn't like Hermione was jealous of Urania's back-bowing chest. Having never been fascinated with breasts, Hermione was perfectly content being flat as a board. But Draco wasn't a female, so he probably wasn't inured to Urania's…feminine wiles. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione tried to see if he was looking.

He was. Just not at the mermaid. He was actually laughing at Hermione, as he had earlier at the meeting. Well, at least somebody was finding this amusing, because she sure wasn't.

"I'm sorry, but Hermione and I were just about to leave the grotto. We apologize for intruding on your moon bathing."

Urania glanced over at Hermione, who waved as politely as she could to a bare-chested floozy. It was about time the mermaid noticed her, even if it were only to sneer at her. Like she was some kind of barnacle stuck to Draco.

"Suit yourself," Urania said, then shimmied off the rock. With a flick of her tail, she flung water all over Hermione before disappearing into the deep.

Draco's once quiet laughter erupted into loud peals of merriment, which echoed off the walls of the grotto. Hermione could do nothing but splutter, glaring at him through a curtain of her sodden hair.

"I cannot believe the nerve of that, that…"

"Brazen tart?"

"YES! That is exactly what she is, flaunting her big, uh…" Hermione ground to a halt, not wanting to say what she had been about to say.

"Egos?"

Hermione looked at him, stunned. Then she burst into laughter. "Yes, her enormous, outrageous egos! Seriously, what was all that about?"

"She was just jealous of you."

"Of me?" Hermione snorted. "I doubt that. My, er, egos are nowhere as big as hers."

Draco shook his head, smiling. "She was showing off because she's jealous for attention. It's exactly like what the girls at Hogwarts would do when they felt they were being ignored."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And just how many Hogwarts' girls have flashed you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Hermione reached over the side of the boat and splashed him with some water. "Draco! Please tell me you're kidding." She tried to sound like she was joking, but she was really alarmed. The idea of Draco seeing any of her female classmates topless was not very appetizing. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. Just common decency.

Draco rolled his eyes. "None. I just meant that the girls at Hogwarts, girls everywhere actually, engage in attention getting behaviors when they feel threatened by other females."

"Yes, well…" Hermione pulled out her wand, performing a drying spell. She knew her hair was a mess, but there was nothing she could do about it now besides put it up. Untying the blue sash from around her waist, she pulled the riotous curls back from her face. "Most girls are idiots."

"But not you?"

"Never me."

They both smiled at each other, but there is only so long that can be done before things get awkward and someone (read: Hermione) looks away.

"Maybe we should head back to the beach," Draco suggested.

"Sounds like a good idea. I'd hate to run into any more mermaids. They might try to drown me. Or smother you with their egos."

"I thought they were charming," Draco said. She knew he was trying to provoke her, and she played along.

"Row or I swear by all that is magical that I will take that oar and hit you over the head with it."

Without another word, Draco made for land, their laughter bouncing off the surface of the water. He took his time about it, and as they leisurely approached the shore, Hermione stared up into the night, dragging her fingers in the water.

All seemed well, but just as they were within swimming distance of the beach, the boat began to rock violently back and forth. Hermione could have sworn she saw a flash of white tail just as the skiff tipped over.

Urania!

Thankfully, Hermione knew how to swim, but that mermaid ho didn't know that.

Draco treaded water over to her, "Are you alright?"

"Yes! But I cannot believe that stu-"

He put his finger to her lips and leaned in closer to her. "She might still be around," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath prickling her watery skin. She could only nod.

They swam back to the shore, and both emerged from the sea dripping wet. Draco's shirt clung to him like an extra layer of skin…completely see-through, and she knew her dress wasn't in much better shape. Reaching for her wand, Hermione realized she didn't have it. While she was wearing a bra, it was also white. The material was probably too thick to reveal anything, but she wasn't going to take any chances. Hermione turned around, crossing her arms over her chest.

Stupid, _stupid_ mermaids!

"I dropped my wand in the ocean. Would you mind drying my clothes off?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because as you said so yourself, you are a perfect gentleman. And I don't like the idea of standing here soaking wet in see-through clothes."

"I think you misheard me earlier. I said that I _had been_ a perfect gentleman. Notice the past tense."

Hermione turned around, angry and arms flailing. "I don't need a grammar lesson! I need a wand!"

"I didn't bring mine. You should have listened to me earlier when I wanted to transfigure your dress into a bikini."

His eyes flicked down quickly to her chest, then back to her eyes. It happened so quickly Hermione almost didn't catch it, but she did, and instantly flung her arms across her chest again. "I cannot believe you!" she yelled, choking on her indignation.

"I didn't see anything. I mean other than the outline of your bra, so you can stop worrying."

"But what if you had?" Hermione groaned, still feeling humiliated even though deep down she knew it was really nothing.

"I didn't, so it doesn't matter."

For some reason that wasn't reassuring. And after her multiple ordeals with the naked, big-chested mermaids, she did not like the idea of Draco even seeing anything related to that part of her anatomy. Merlin, what if he was trying to compare her to one of them? Absolutely mortified, she turned around and began walking back toward the hotel.

"Hermione…Hermione, wait."

He caught up to her after a few feet and pulled her around. "I saw absolutely nothing. I swear."

"I don't care. You shouldn't have looked in the first place."

"It wasn't like I was looking for nefarious purposes. If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have let you see me do it. I'm not a pervert."

He was right. It was poor judgment to do what he had done, but over the course of their whole relationship, apart from the occasional innuendo, he really had been nothing but a gentleman. And as he said, he hadn't even seen anything. Still, she wasn't very happy.

"I promise I will never look below your neck again," he said.

He took his finger and placed it under her chin, raising it so she had to look at him. "From here on out, it's just eye contact. I won't even look at your chin. Or your forehead."

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself.

"So am I forgiven?" he asked.

"I really shouldn't, but, yes, you're forgiven."

"Now I want you to say, 'Draco is not a pervert.'"

"It's alright. Let's just get back to the hotel, so we can get your wand and retrieve mine."

"Not until you say the magic words."

"Fine. Draco is not a pervert."

"Good girl. And just to be fair…" She saw that trouble-forecasting twinkle in his eyes before it disappeared behind the fabric of his shirt. He peeled off the wet top, revealing the glistening expanse of his chest and stomach. For a second the shirt got caught around his head, and Hermione's eyes dropped down. Realizing what she was doing, she brought them back to his now uncovered face.

"I saw you looking. Now we're even."

It was not the same thing, but Hermione's mind was too muddled to note the distinction.

Still stunned by the reappearance of shirtless Draco, she could not tear her eyes away as he wrung the water out of his shirt. The muscles in his arms and chest tightened and swelled from the action, and Hermione was rendered speechless.

Stupid, _stupid _Draco! Why couldn't he keep his clothes on?

She was just about to look away, when something caught her attention.

Running down the middle of Draco's chest all the way to his belly button was a thin white line.

Without thinking, Hermione reached out to examine it. It was barely raised, hardly registering against her light touch. Forgetting herself, she slowly traced it from top to bottom, and only stopped when Draco shuddered. Hermione snatched her hand back.

"Sixth year souvenir from Potter," Draco said, his words clipped.

"Harry told me about it, but I'd forgotten. Does it still hurt?"

"No. Just looks ugly."

"It's hardly noticeable." It was true. The scar was so thin and light, a person would need to be this close to even see it. And if they were, Hermione doubted they would be staring at the scar. Not when there were so many other beautiful things around it, like his abs, or his pectorals, or his arms. Hermione stopped the mental catalog of his physical perfections, reminding herself that Draco was her friend, not a delectable piece of meat.

He raised his fingers to the scar, and just as she had, stared as he traced its length. "Still wish it weren't there."

They had never talked about that time of his life, and suddenly she was very curious about it. "What was it like that year?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I think it would be good for you to talk about it."

"In that case…It was hell. My father had just been locked away. My mother was a sobbing mess. And me, well I wasn't doing that much better. And then I get called before Voldemort, am basically told that if I don't kill Dumbledore, my whole family will die. Add into the mix getting sliced open by Potter, crying my eyes out to Moaning Myrtyle, becoming a Death Eater, not being able to kill Dumbledore, and making Snape do it for me instead…" Draco shook his head. "It was the worst year of my life."

Hermione grabbed the hand that was still tracing his scar, wrapping his fingers with her own. "I wish we had been friends then. I would have helped you."

He smiled weakly. "It wouldn't have mattered. I was too stupid then to accept it."

Hermione sighed, sad for what had happened, but relieved that it was all in the past and that things were so much different now. He had changed so much, she hardly recognized him from that proud, arrogant jerk that had tried to make her Hogwarts' years sheer misery because he was so miserable himself. He was now her best friend, one of the best people she knew, but he was still hurting. She wanted to give him comfort, and hoped that now he was ready to receive it from her.

Hermione leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his breast bone. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his scar. _I'm sorry that we weren't friends, that you had to go through that alone, that you're still haunted by your past._ His skin warmed under her mouth, and she pulled away, eyes watery.

"What was that for?" his voice was hoarse, as if any second it would break.

Taking a step back, she almost stumbled. "I don't know. It was, I was," she swallowed, trying to regain her composure. She hadn't meant harm; she had wanted to help. "It's just something muggles do… to make the pain go away. I didn't mean to upset you."

His fingers tightened around her arms, and she closed her eyes, expecting to be thrown into the surf. Anticipating it, she held her breath and waited for what would come next. She didn't have to wait long.

His mouth came down on hers, stealing the breath she had been holding. She had expected to drown, but not like this. It was so different. Like she had swallowed fire.

There was a brief moment where she raised her hands to push him away, certain that this was some mistake. That the wine, the moonlight, the high emotions were playing tricks on them both. Maybe he could handle that, but she knew she wouldn't recover if this didn't stop; she'd eventually want more and then get hurt when he told her he couldn't give her that, because he didn't return her feelings.

But that moment quickly passed. Her hands dropped back to her side, and she let the fire engulf her, memorizing this madness before he decided to end it. His fingers splayed across her back, firmly holding her to his body. She sighed into his insistent mouth, felt one of his hands come up to her face and tilt her head back.

He removed his lips from hers, and her heart seemed to stop beating. It was over, and she didn't want it to be. She could feel her mouth open, the request for him to keep going forming on her tongue, but it got lost somewhere in her throat. It didn't matter. No request was needed, because Draco wasn't finished.

His lips traveled over the skin of her face, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, eyebrows, even her nose.

She felt as limp as a rag doll, and if he were not holding her, she would have fallen over. His mouth moved to her neck, pressing lightly against her pulse point. Now he would know what he was doing to her heart, but she didn't care.

This was how it was supposed to be. That tightening in her gut that wasn't because of anxiety or grief or anger, but because she was in the arms of someone she was really and truly liked. She had called this madness, but she was wrong. It was perfection, it was absolutely right and one hundred percent normal.

_But this is Draco_, a voice inside her brain managed to squeak, though the weeds threatened to choke it. It yelled at her over and over again, and her heart seemed to take up the refrain, pounding out its words.

This. Is. Draco.

DRACO!

Yes, Draco. Maybe, maybe this could work with Draco. The attraction was there, she cared for him, she respected him. There wasn't any person she would rather spend time with than him. In fact, she couldn't imagine wanting anyone besides Draco.

It had to be Draco.

Hermione reached up, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers.

He kissed her for a few more seconds, but then he suddenly stopped, pulled back with a groan.

"Hermione," he murmured against her mouth, voice breathless. He inhaled deeply, resting his forehead on hers. "I think we should stop."

It felt like her world was crashing down around her head, and with it her brain. All she could think was that he didn't want this. Not like she did.

Hermione nodded, disentangling herself from Draco, too horrified to say anything.

He reached out to her, but she shrugged off his hand. She didn't want his pity. She wanted him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

How could he even ask that? He was the one who had pulled away. She felt ripped apart, but she couldn't show him that. Then he'd know what she thought, that she had wanted this to be more than a mistake. That this wasn't some silly girl crush induced by his good looks. This was something deep. She'd fallen for her best friend and her boss.

Stupid, _stupid _Hermione!

She could feel the tears burning her eyes, and she was grateful that it was night. He wouldn't be able to see them. One by one, she began shutting down her emotions, explaining to herself why her hopes and dreams regarding him were stupid and foolish.

When she thought she was capable of speaking without bursting into tears, she laughed, hoping he couldn't hear how strained it was. "I told you we shouldn't have had any wine…I apologize for getting caught up in the moment."

She thought she had responded well. Spoken calmly, tried to inject humor into the situation, used the wine as an excuse for their behavior, but he looked absolutely livid. His fists tightened at his side, and his eyes narrowed

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I already told you. I got carried away. I shouldn't have kissed you. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again."

"You think this happened because of the wine? Hermione, you had one glass."

So much for using that as an excuse. Was he determined to make her feel like dirt? He had pulled away. He could have at least had the courtesy of letting her pretend she was acting under the influence of alcohol.

"Fine, it wasn't the wine. I was simply being emotional after all that you told me. I shouldn't have let it go that far."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. You know we don't like each other that way. That we're just friends. We've always made that very clear."

"Merlin, would you listen to yourself. You were all over me seconds ago, and now we're just _friends_."

He was yelling at her, and all she could do was tremble like a leaf. "I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to stop lying!"

"I'm not lying! We_ are_ just friends."

"I'm not stupid, Hermione. I know you want me. That you've wanted me for a long time, but you've been too scared to do anything about it. And I've been waiting all this time for you to realize it, and now that you have, I'm not going to let you run away."

Hermione shook her head, hoping the harder she did it, the more believable it looked. "What are you talking about?" she said, pouring as much sarcasm into her words as possible. Anything to make him stop believing the truth.

"You're in love with me."

Hermione started laughing. Thank Merlin she wasn't that far gone.

"I'm not kidding," Draco said, his voice and face devoid of all humor.

He was actually serious?

"Love you?!" And because that didn't seem convincing enough, she lied. "I don't even like you. I couldn't possibly love you."

For a second he looked hurt, but then it was gone, engulfed by his anger. "I'm not letting you leave until you admit it."

And then he grabbed her and kissed her. His mouth was hard and unforgiving, and were she not so scared and angry that he was playing with her emotions just to make a point, she would have been able to enjoy the thrill of pleasure that coursed over her from head to toe.

Wild with fear, Hermione twisted out of his arms. "Let go of me!" But he didn't, and she knew that if he kissed her again, there was nothing that would keep her from admitting everything to him. She couldn't let that happen. So she pulled back her hand and slapped him.

Draco's jaw dropped in shock. Hermione thought she must have hit him harder than she had meant to, because his gray eyes were shining like he was on the verge of tears. "Fine," he spat. "Run away. Coward."

And she did. She didn't even make it back to the hotel. She just knew she wanted to be home, and in the blink of an eye, she was back in her flat. Already sick to her stomach, the apparating only made things worse. She fell to the ground, trying not to throw up.

She liked Draco, yes, but now he thought she was in love with him. Well, at least there she could defend herself.

But what kind of defense would that be? _I'm not in love with you, but I like you so much I can't stand to be rejected by you?_

Everything was ruined. After what had happened, how could she expect to keep her job? Or her friendship with Draco?

And she didn't want to lose either of those. She loved her job. She loved…

Picking herself off the ground, she took a deep breath, knowing she had to tell someone or her brain would burst.

Hermione apparated before the first door she could think of, pounding on it like there were rabid dogs nipping at her heels.

"I'm coming, just hold on a second," she heard a muffled voice call from the inside a few seconds later.

The door flung open, revealing Harry in his pajamas.

"It's ten o'clock on a Friday night. Why are you already asleep?" Hermione asked.

"I had a rough week. And I'm getting old." Harry lifted his glasses, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. "Now why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in Italy with Malfoy? And why are you wet?" he asked, his brain slowly coming to.

Hermione took a deep breath, then blurted out, "Remember that time when I said that if I ever became a different person, lost my mind, and started liking Malfoy, you had my permission to A.K. me?"

Harry careened into his door frame, still half-asleep. "You're going to need to speak much more slowly if you expect me to understand a word of what you just said."

"I think I have feelings for Draco Malfoy."

"So?"

"So?! This is a huge deal, Harry! Why are you just standing there? You should be whipping out your wand and enfolding me in the green light of death."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "You guys are practically married, you spend so much time with each other. Seriously, Hermione, you went alone with him to Capri."

"For business!"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what Malfoy had in mind. Anyway, it had to happen sooner or later."

"But he thinks I'm in love with him!"

"You are."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes. "And it's about bloody time you realized it. Now I'm going back to bed. Good night." And then he closed the door in her face, mumbling something about moving away to an unplottable, undetectable house.

"WHAT?!"

Hermione began banging her fists against Harry's door, "No, I'm not! Come out here now and take it back!" she demanded.

After about a minute of making as much racket as she possibly could, a window opened above her.

Hermione looked up, "Now listen here…Oh. You're not Harry." It was then that she realized the window belonged to the house next door.

"No, I'm not. I am however trying to sleep. Just like Harry. Would you mind keeping it down."

"Oh, yes. Sorry abou-"

The man slammed the window shut before she could finish her apology.

"I said I was sorry," Hermione huffed, sitting down on the stoop in front of Harry's door. Seriously, what was with everyone going to bed this early? Even _she_ stayed up later than ten on a Friday night. What was wrong with these people?

But staying mad at Harry and his neighbor could only distract her for so long. Eventually her thoughts turned back to Draco and the disaster in Capri.

Burying her head in her hands, she tried to think of some way she could salvage her friendship without admitting to Draco how crazy she was about him.

Enraged that even with the most brilliant mind of her generation she still couldn't come up with a solution, she kicked a stone that was lying by her foot. The pebble skittered across the street, hitting the tire of a car.

Hermione dropped her aching head into her hands, massaging her temples.

Why did everyone think she was in love with Draco Malfoy, anyway?

Sure, Draco was gorgeous, and kind, and intelligent. He challenged her, but knew how to comfort her when she needed that instead. He respected her, but poked fun of her when she was taking herself too seriously. He could be serious when she needed to discuss important things, and then make her sides ache with laughter minutes later. He liked her family, and while she and Lucius still had a ways to go, she adored Narcissa and Andromeda. He was good to Teddy, and even though he would never admit it, he got along with her friends (and probably just for her sake too). And he was always so thoughtful and generous towards her. Plus he made her heart feel all funny when she was around him and then all sad when she wasn't.

But that didn't mean anything, right?

Hermione groaned, raising her head from her hands. The truth was staring her in the face, and she could escape it no longer.

"I'm a bloody idiot…and I'm in love with Draco Malfoy."

She promptly burst into tears.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	17. Penultimate Peril, Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So I've finally been hit with writer's block. Ugh. But this is what I have scraped together. I dedicate this to the one named **sazza**, who I think has inspired me with some ideas for the closing chapters. Thank you, wonderful you. **:D**

I got a few reviews asking about the whole wandless apparition thing. According to the HP wiki, there is debate on whether or not a wand is needed to apparate. To make things easier on myself, I chose to side with those who think it's not required. Though I don't really have a personal opinion on it one way or the other.

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**Unfortunate Event Twelve:**

**The Penultimate Peril, Part One

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**

Hermione stared up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing. Her mind was racing, preoccupied with the horrors of last night. She had stayed on Harry's stoop, crying her heart out, but silently so she wouldn't wake his cranky neighbor. She hadn't wanted to go home, even though the ground was hard and her dress was still soaked through. The idea of Draco waiting for her at her flat was almost as unbearable as the idea of him not being there.

When she could barely stay awake, she apparated back to her apartment, disconnected her chimney from the floo network, removed Draco's permissions to apparate into her flat, and finally stumbled into bed for some restless sleep.

Crookshanks was now at her feet, and Widdershins was at her face, licking her back into the world of the living. With a groan, Hermione glanced over at her alarm clock. It was ten in the morning. She was supposed to be in Venice with Draco, not being smothered by her cats. The reminder brought on a fresh wave of tears.

A knock at the door interrupted her pity party. Startled, Hermione shot up in bed, instantly regretting it. Her head positively ached, and now that she was thinking about it, so did her throat. Great. On top of all the wonderful things that were going on in her life, she was getting a cold.

Hoping her visitor would go away, she laid back down on her bed. Hermione wasn't ready to face the world. In fact, she was still hoping that last night had been nothing more than an unusually horrid nightmare. Throwing her pillow on top of her head, Hermione willed herself to go back to sleep and wake up in the real world, where she and Draco were still friends and she hadn't ruined her life. But the knocking only grew louder. And then there was yelling. "Hermione, it's Ginny. I'm coming in!"

Without waiting for an answer, her friend appeared in the bedroom with a loud pop. Hermione made no effort to greet her, only lifting her pillow up to see if the intruder really was Ginny. Satisfied it wasn't an imposter, Hermione's head lolled back onto her bed.

"I came as soon as Harry told me," Ginny said from the other side of the room.

So it wasn't a nightmare. The only response Hermione could make was to curl up into the fetal position, feeling like a big baby, but not really caring. What bothered her, though, was that Ginny obviously wasn't taking the hint that she wanted to be left alone.

Her friend walked over to the bed, holding something out for Hermione to see. Somehow, she dredged up the energy to look at her. "These were outside your door," Ginny said.

It was Hermione's travel bag. And her wand.

"Malfoy must have brought them back while you were sleeping," Ginny said, putting the items down on the floor before joining her on the bed. Hermione thought about burying her head back under her pillow, but she was too irritated to do anything but glare up defiantly at her friend.

"Oh…you look awful," Ginny said, brushing the hair out of Hermione's face. "And you're burning up too."

Not exactly what Hermione wanted to hear, but she knew she looked terrible. It was the way Ginny's words were saturated with sympathy that made Hermione's stomach sink. If Ginny was showing her pity, things were really bad. Hermione laid her head back on the pillow, wiping away the tears that were silently falling down her face. She tried to stop, but then Ginny began rubbing circles on her back, and it was all she could do to keep from sobbing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked.

"What's left to say? I made an absolute fool of myself."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"You're right. It was catastrophic."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

So Hermione did. She told Ginny everything. About the topless mermaids, the sunblock art, the dinner, the grotto, Urania, the not-so-see-through dress, the scar, the kisses, and finally the slap.

When Hermione finished, she looked up from her pillow and wailed, "Ginny, why am I such an idiot?"

But instead of lecturing her on her stupidity, Ginny just smiled. "You're not an idiot. You're just a very confused girl who tends to over think things until she's petrified herself. It's not as bad as you think."

"Not that bad?! Ginny, I'm in love with Draco Malfoy! And he knows!"

"Actually, he doesn't. You never told him that. But that doesn't matter; everything will turn out fine."

"How can you say that? I don't even know how to begin fixing this."

"It's quite simple, really. You'll tell him that he was right, that you're in love with him."

"Are you insane? There is no way I am going to admit that. And even if I were, it would be impossible, since I'm never going to see him again."

Ginny shook her head, still smiling in a way that grated on Hermione's overwrought nerves. "Why are you laughing?! I'm being serious. Do you honestly think I can face Draco after what happened?"

"You're going to have to talk to him eventually, like at work…or on your date to Pansy's wedding."

Hermione had forgotten all about that. She had accrued enough vacation time, so she could put off worrying about returning to work for a few weeks. Pansy's wedding was slightly trickier, but surely a week before the wedding wasn't too late to cancel. She'd just get Pansy an extra special wedding gift.

"I'm not going," Hermione said.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows. "So are you planning on hiding in your room for the rest of your life?"

"Maybe."

Hermione hadn't meant it when she first answered, but now that she thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea after all. She could summon food here. Maybe even train Crookshanks and Widdershins to fetch the paper or run errands for her. Finances might be problematic, but she was sure her parents would help her out if she asked. And her friends could--

"Absolutely not!" Ginny said, shaking her. "I refuse to be friends with a recluse, so you can stop devising whatever barmy ideas you're planning!"

"They are not barmy! It could work if I just—"

"Alright, enough wallowing. It's turning your brain to mush." Ginny pulled Hermione out of bed. "It's time we got you a Pepperup Potion and some chicken noodle soup." Dragging her to the kitchen, Ginny started going through the cabinets while Hermione sank into her chair, resting her burning cheek against the cool of the table.

After Ginny opened a can of condensed soup and set it to boil, she plopped down in the chair next to Hermione, holding out the Pepperup Potion. "Drink this," she ordered.

"No. I plan on calling in sick for the rest of the week. If I drink that, I won't be able to." Hermione pushed the potion away. "Besides, I deserve to be sick for being so stupid," she said.

"Hermione, if you don't drink this, I will tie you down to the table and force it down your throat."

And people thought Draco was a bully. He was a kitten in comparison to Ginny. "Some comforter you are." Snatching the potion, she took an angry sip. "You're as insensitive as Harry."

"He's a boy. They aren't smart when it comes to these things. And I don't think either of us realized what a shock this would be for you. We've all kind of considered you and Malfoy as a couple for some time."

Hermione being friends with Draco was one thing, but actually dating their childhood nemesis? She had never seriously entertained the idea of actually being Draco's girlfriend, but if she had, she would have counted on strong opposition from her friends. Apparently, she was wrong. "Really? Ron and Harry are OK with that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah. They've been playing Quiddith with him for nearly a year. They've… bonded over that."

Hermione didn't believe her, and it must have shown across her face.

"What?" Ginny asked. "People bond over Quidditch all the time. And even if there weren't Quidditch, Malfoy's changed, and he makes you happy. That would be reason enough for Harry and Ron to try to be friends with him."

Huh. That was embarrassing. How was it that Harry and Ron, two boys who would have had difficulty passing their classes without her, had figured out how vital a part Draco played to her happiness? Had her brain really turned to mush?

"So am I the only person who didn't know I was in love with Draco?" Hermione asked.

"Pretty much."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I tried, but you wouldn't listen."

"Well, you should have tried harder! You could have spared me all of this!"

"How? Would you have made yourself stop falling in love with Malfoy?"

"Yes!"

Ginny was laughing now. "You are such a liar. Do you expect me to believe you would you have ended your friendship with him? Or set him up on dates with other witches, so he would be off limits to you? Tell me, would you have set him up with Sharon?"

Hermione stood to her feet, enraged. "Of course not! She's an idiot! And it's too late now. I'm already in love with him. The very idea of Draco with anyone but me makes me sick! And not being friends with him will never be an option!"

"Finally! This is the Hermione I'm looking for. Angry, determined, willing to fight for her man. And the steam coming out of your ears only adds to the picture," Ginny said, clapping her hands approvingly. "Now go get him, you Gryffindor lioness!"

But Hermione wasn't a lioness. After last night, she could only be mocked and derided for being a yellow-bellied coward who ran away from the guy who gave her the most mind-blowing kiss of her life. In her defense, most everybody thought she should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. They were eagles; no one ever accused eagles of being brave. Of course, her brain interjected, eagles were known for going after their prey, relentlessly attacking until they had taken what was theirs. But Draco wasn't hers. Maybe she should have been placed in Hufflepuff. But even their mascot loyally fought for what it wanted. All of a sudden, Hermione's passion and energy left her, and she fell back into her chair.

"I'm not even a badger," she said, despairingly.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

"I don't even know anymore, but I can't tell Draco how I feel about him."

"Why not? How hard could it be? You'll just say, 'Draco, I made a mistake.' And then you'll kiss him, and start your happily ever after. The end."

Poor, ignorant Ginny. Did she really think that's how relationships worked? Maybe if feelings were reciprocated, which in Ginny's case always seemed to be the case. "It's not that simple."

"Yes it is!"

"No, it's not. At this point, I need to be working on damage control, and that means getting over him."

"And why would you do that?! Malfoy is as much in love with you as you are in love with him."

Upset at Ginny's uncooperativeness, Hermione waved an accusing finger in her face. "How am I supposed to stop feeling this way when you say things like that? I need to kill whatever hope I have of being with him, and when you tell me lies, it only makes it harder."

"Good! And I will continue to make this as difficult as possible until you finally get it through your thick skull that he loves you!"

"But Draco never said that. And he pulled away from me."

"And you said you didn't even like him and slapped him. When emotions are running high, people do stupid things."

"Like when Draco kissed me?"

"Aaahhh!" Ginny yelled, wringing her hands in frustration. "Alright, since my heartfelt assurances are having no impact on you whatsoever, let's look at the facts. One: Malfoy kissed you first-"

"Also pulled away from me first-"

"He probably didn't want to lose control. Or maybe wanted to discuss things with you, make sure he was what you really wanted before it got out of hand. No guy initiates a kiss like the one you had with him only to pull back and say, 'I don't actually like you,' or 'This was the worst mistake of my life.' Two: Malfoy told you about the worst time of his life. Most people don't even think he has a heart, and yet there he was, pouring it out to you."

"That's only because I'm his closest friend."

"Which brings us to fact three: your 'friendship' looks an awful lot like my relationship with Harry. He's always complimenting you, always _looking_ at you, always _touching_ you. He took you to Capri-"

Hermione beat down the hope that sprung from Ginny's words, reminding both of them that, "It was only for business."

"How many dinners did you have with Scholes when you worked at the Ministry? And did Scholes ever ask you to rub sun block on him? Or tell you he wanted to see you in a bikini? Or plan a Saturday trip with you to Venice?... Well, I'm waiting for an answer."

Thank Merlin, no! The very idea of her old boss wanting to do those things with Hermione sent her shuddering. Especially the bit about the sun block. That portly, pasty roly-poly man in a swimsuit was the stuff of nightmares. Worse than a thousand shirtless Goyles. When she had recovered from her disgust, she pointed out, "Unfair comparison. Scholes despised me. He would never have asked me to spend more time with him than was absolutely necessary."

"Well, at least we've established that Malfoy does not despise you."

"I already knew that! We are…we were best friends." Hermione hung her head in her hands, remembering all that she had lost. "He probably hates me now."

"You hurt his feelings. He'll be upset, but I'm sure he'll get over it once you admit that he was right. And then he'll be very, very happy. So happy that you might want to consider getting married, but not until next year. Say around April. You wouldn't want to rush things."

What?! A marriage in April? Hermione didn't even know if Draco still wanted to be her friend, and yet Ginny was already planning their wedding. Why would she do that? Unless…

"You told me you called that bet off!" Hermione said.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, completely unapologetic. By all rights, Hermione should have chased her around the room and strangled her, but what was the point? At least when there was no wedding, Ginny would lose whatever money she had bet.

"You know what, it doesn't matter, because I'm not going to tell him. Maybe then things will just die down and we can go back to normal," Hermione said hopefully. Sure, Draco was upset. But if she apologized for her behavior, left him alone for a while, let the passage of number and wear down her heart, why couldn't their rift be repaired?

"I hate to break this to you, Hermione, but things will _never_ go back to normal. Not after something like this."

Hermione could feel the air being sucked out of her lungs. "What do you mean?"

"You and Malfoy made out! You can't go back after that. Only forward." Ginny must have seen how terrifying such a proposition was, because she added, "Don't worry. Forward is good. Spectacular, even."

"I think you mean wretched."

"You'll never know unless you tell him. And if you don't, I will, because there is no way I am going to let you mess this up."

"That isn't for you to decide, Ginny! This is my life, not some silly bet."

"I know that! What kind of friend do you take me for? But Malfoy isn't going to wait forever. You have to let him know."

She was right, but that didn't help Hermione overcome her greatest obstacle. "Ginny, I'm scared."

Her friend reached across the table, clasping her hand. "You're a Gryffindor. You'll get over it."

"Why does everyone think that because I'm a Gryffindor I'm actually brave."

"Because you are. You're Hermione Granger for crying out loud, and now you need to start acting like it."

"But who _is_ Hermione Granger?" She had already concluded that she wasn't a lion, eagle, or badger. And she was no snake. What was left? A pygmy puff?

Ginny threw her hands up in the air. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. _Who is Hermione Granger_? What kind of question is that?"

"I'm having an existential crisis over here, and all you can do is mock me?"

"No, what you are doing is making excuses. Deep down, you know I'm right. And what's more, you know that Draco deserves to know the truth. As a friend, you owe him that."

This was the one argument Hermione didn't want to hear, because it was the only one that actually had any power over her. Of course Draco deserved to know. As much as Hermione wanted to live out the rest of her life in her apartment being catered to by her cats, she knew that if she did, she would be haunted by Draco for the rest of her life. The way he had looked at her right after she had slapped him, his eyes hurt and wet with tears, broke her heart, and she couldn't live with herself if she didn't try to fix the mess she had created. Even if it meant her humiliation, she would explain to him that the real problem was not that he had made a mistake. The problem was that she loved him so much and couldn't stand the idea of him not loving her back. But admitting this didn't make what she had to do any easier, and it certainly didn't render her eventual humiliation any more palatable.

"What if he laughs at me? Or what if…what if he can't love me back?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy would never laugh at you for something like this, and if he does, I have a Bat-Bogey hex reserved especially for him. And if he doesn't love you back, well, I suppose your life will cease to have meaning and you'll just have to kill yourself."

Hermione looked over at Ginny, her jaw dropped in shock. "You're joking, right?"

"Sweet Merlin! Hermione, you know as well as I do that no other human being will complete you. If he says 'no, thank you,' you'll just have to move on like everybody else who has had their heart broken. But I think we're taking the wrong approach here. We should be concentrating on the good things that could happen if it turns out that I'm right and he's sick with love for you."

"You should be happy that I'm even contemplating telling him. I refuse to think about anything beyond that. It raises hope unnecessarily, and I need to keep my expectations low."

"Then I'll think about it for you. Hmm…First, he'll take you in his arms and reveal that he's loved you for ages. Because you're you, you won't believe him and try to talk him out of it. At first he just presses a finger to your lips, but you won't shut up, so he smothers your words with his mouth. Since you're in his office, you're worry about how unprofessional all this is, but he just laughs, tells you he's the boss and can do whatever he wants, then puts up a silencing charm. Then he flings everything off his desk, lays you across it, and—"

"Ginny!"

"Huh?" The redhead, who had been staring off into the distance, glanced back over at Hermione. "Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away, didn't I?"

"A bit?"

"Oh please. You're the one in love with him. Don't tell me you haven't pictured yourself…snogging with him in his office."

Hermione blushed. "Fine. I won't."

Ginny grinned up at her wickedly. "I knew it! What else?"

"I really don't think-"

"Spill. Now!"

It couldn't hurt to tell one Ginny, could it? And besides, Hermione had pretty much skipped over this girlish silliness when she was at Hogwarts. Maybe she just needed to get it out of her system.

"Well… lately most of the time I'm with him, I'll randomly start thinking about kissing him. The locations change. Sometimes it's in his office or mine. Or in the elevator. Or in my flat or the Manor. On the beach, in the rain, even riding on his broom and you know how afraid of heights I am…"

When Ginny didn't laugh her head off, Hermione continued revealing all the things she had kept to herself for fear her friends would reject her. Or kill her. "And maybe I've pictured what it would be like to be married to him…And, um, maybe I've planned our honeymoon too. I've even pictured what all our kids will look like…and named them. But I only think about those things occasionally. Mostly it's just the snogging." Badly hiding her embarrassment, she mumbled, "I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"No crazier than the next girl."

"Really?"

"Hermione, I've had those fantasies too. And not just about Harry, but about every guy I've ever had a crush on. In fact, I think you're weird for not thinking these things before."

"Oh, I've thought of them before, when I liked Ron, but it was never this detailed or as often."

"And thank Morgana for that. No one should think about Ron that way."

"You only say that because you're his sister. I'm sure that Lavender—"

"No!" Ginny raised her hands, as if she were warding off a Dementor. "I do _not_ want to know what Lavender thinks about her little Won-Won. Anyway, I should probably be going. I have a match in a couple of hours, and the manager won't be too pleased if I'm not there for warm-up."

Hermione wrapped Ginny in a hug, which was warmly returned. "Thanks for coming here. I feel much better."

"You're welcome. But before I go, I want you to promise me that you will tell Draco this. Only not the part about the fantasies. That can wait till later."

Hermione pushed a smirking Ginny out of her arms. "Fine, I promise I'll let him know how I feel." _In about ten years_, she silently added. _Maybe twenty._

"When?" Ginny prompted.

Blast!

"Monday. When I go to work," Hermione said, grudgingly.

"Good girl!" Ginny said, patting Hermione's head like she would a puppy's.

"If this doesn't turn out well, I'm blaming you," Hermione warned.

"And if it does turn out well?"

"Then I'll take all the credit for it."

"As long as you don't marry him until April of next year, I have no problem with that."

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

"I suppose." Ginny walked away, but turned at the last second. "Don't forget to eat the soup I made for you." And then she disappeared with a pop.

As it was Saturday, there wasn't anything Hermione needed to do. That left her plenty of time to figure out how to confess her undying love to Draco Malfoy.

Sitting down, she summoned a parchment and quill so she could script out the exact words she would say to him. Or maybe she could compose a letter instead. One that she would owl him from the safety of her office. Yes, that's what she would do. But when she put nib to paper, nothing would come. Her mind went entirely blank.

On the verge of panicking that her intelligence had permanently deserted her, Hermione luckily remembered that she had not eaten since yesterday. No wonder she couldn't think properly.

Getting up, she walked right past the chicken noodle soup still bubbling on her stove top and straight toward the cupboards. Opening one, she dug around until her fingers fell on her desired meal. Pulling it out, she opened it and set her lips to the mouth of the bottle.

"Bottoms up!"

Tipping back the bottle of Ogden's she kept for emergencies such as these, the alcohol went straight down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach. Hmmm. That was more like it.

Had she really thought that Draco would laugh at her? How silly. And how couldn't he love her back? They were perfect for each other.

Turning off her stove, she walked back to the table with her liquid courage. Sitting down, Hermione was determined to write the best love letter ever. One that would make Draco weep with desire for her. Or at least forgive her. Of course, this was hampered by her persistent nerves, but whenever they reared their ugly heads, she took another swig of her marvelous drink. One by one all her fears seemed to disappear, swallowed up by a pleasant sea of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.

After the bottle was half-way gone, the words finally came, only she was having difficulty gripping her quill and seeing the words she was writing.

"I think I'm drunk," she said, giggling loudly.

And then she passed out on the table.

When she woke up a few hours later, it was in a puddle of her own drool and with another pounding headache. Stumbling to her bathroom to retrieve the hangover potion she had never needed to use until now, she gulped it down. Feeling much better, she made her way back to the kitchen table to look at what her firewhisky-soaked brain had come up with.

"Draco, I really, really love you. Will you love me forever too?"

Yuck. Too sappy and stupid.

"I think we would have beautiful babies. Please say you love me."

Pathetic.

"Ginny and Harry and everybody thinks you love me. So you should."

Bossy and unromantic.

"Draco Malfoy + Hermione Granger = True Love."

Maybe if they were in kindergarten.

Thankfully, each and every line had been crossed out, proving that even her drunken self knew how horrible each of the declarations were. Ripping up the sorry attempts, Hermione realized she would have to do this sober.

And afraid.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, she had prepared what she hoped was an honest confession of her love for her best friend and boss. She had practiced it all of Sunday, because she had known this wasn't something that could be sent through an owl, no matter how much she wished it could. Gathering all her courage, she stepped into the elevator at Malfoy Industries. As some unseen troll turned the capstan, bringing her closer and closer to Draco, she inwardly chanted, _You are Hermione Granger, you are a Gryffindor, and you can do this!_ Occasionally, her subconscious plea for the troll to kidnap her broke through her mantra, but when the elevator door opened, she bravely stepped out and made her way to Draco's office.

She was met by Sharon. Smiling as politely as she could, Hermione said, "Do you know what time Mr. Malfoy will be in today?"

Sharon raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Didn't Draco tell you?"

No, _Draco_, had not told her. And what was with Sharon calling her boss Draco? Hermione's secretary never called her by anything other than her last name. "I must have missed the memo."

Sharon looked down at her hands, examining the manicured French tips. "Oh, there wasn't any memo. I just assumed that he would have told _you_ he would be out of town until Pansy's wedding."

Maybe it they had been on speaking terms he would have. "Did he say where he went?"

"Yes, but I'm under strict orders not to tell anyone. He said if anyone wanted to know where he was, they could talk with his father."

Well that was one way to make sure Hermione didn't find him.

"Alright," Hermione said, turning to leave.

She was almost out the door, when Sharon called to her, "And Miss Granger, he also told me to give you this."

Hermione made her way back to Sharon's desk and took the letter from her with a terse thank you. Once she was out of sight, Hermione ran to her office, shut the door, and put up a silencing charm. Making sure no one could enter her office, she laid the letter on the table, staring at it intensely. This unassuming cream envelop sealed with the Malfoy crest could have all her answers. Would it be a crushing blow? Or the best news of her life?

Whatever it was, she wasn't ready for it. Taking the letter, she hid it in a desk drawer under a bunch of files and tried getting some work done. She wasn't very successful. A seductive voice kept whispering, "Open me, Hermione. Read me. You know you want to." Rather than argue with a letter, Hermione went to the break room to get some coffee. But as soon as she came back, the letter began to call to her. It was time for a walk around the Serpentine, she decided. When she returned, she was able to get through a few of her upcoming projects, but just before lunch she cracked.

Whipping out her wand, she levitated the letter above her desk, casting all sorts of spells to see if Draco had charmed it to make her think she was going insane.

Apparently, she was, because there were no magical traces on the letter whatsoever. The letter's voice was all in her head. Taking the letter into her hands, Hermione decided she would get no work done until she read it. Carefully breaking the seal, she removed the paper within. Inhaling then exhaling deeply, she unfolded the letter and opened her eyes to read Draco's words—the words that would change her life.

_We'll talk about Capri after the wedding._

Hermione read the words over a few times before flipping the piece of paper over, looking for the rest of the message. But there wasn't any.

"That's it?!"

Hermione flung the letter across the room, but was disappointed in that too. Instead of sailing across her office, the mangy paper didn't even cleared her desk. It gently wafted to rest about a foot away from her, taunting her. Picking up her wand, she blasted the sorry missive into the wall.

"That's all he can say after I almost die of suspense?! He might as well not have written anything at all! I can't believe I spent my weekend crying over that arrogant...wanker!" Running over to the letter, she dug her heel into it, pretending it was Draco's foot. Then jumped on top of it for good measure. Giving the letter one last satisfying kick, she sent it skittering across the floor.

Finally somewhat calmed down, she sank down into her comfy office chair, glaring at the letter across the way. Taking a few cleansing breaths, she considered that perhaps she had overreacted. Oh, who was she kidding? She could almost picture Draco laughing at her for getting so worked up, first before even opening the letter and then after. And if she weren't so concerned about her future with him, she probably would have been laughing at herself too.

It really wasn't fair. She was the one at a disadvantage, because she was the one in love. Unless Ginny was right about Draco being in love with her. But if he was, how could he act so calm about the whole ordeal, while she was falling apart at the seams? Well, she didn't know if he was calm, because he wasn't even there, which was odd in itself. Draco might have always come in late to work, but he always came. Maybe he was too scared to see her, maybe he felt the same way…

No. She wasn't going to play around with the possibilities. Ginny was right. She was Hermione Granger. It was about time she stopped acting so brainlessly. With as much dignity as possible, Hermione retrieved the ripped up letter from the floor and put it back in its envelope. Perhaps she would wait until the wedding to speak with Draco.

Or perhaps it was time to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy.

Gulp.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review!**

* * *

Alright, I have neglected replying to my anonymous reviews for the longest time. So I apologize for that, and for the massive amount of stuff I wrote below. Thanks for indulging me.

My Anonymous Review Replies:

**Scarlettcat - **How lucky that you are employed at a place where you can read fanfiction while you work. :D Thank you for letting me know you find this story humorous. I like to think I can be funny when I put my mind to it, but I rarely put my mind to it. :D I understand what you mean about balancing seriousness with humor. I try to keep it there, but it might take on a different kind of tone later on. Or the humor might be more bittersweet. I think it's important to be able to still laugh when you want to cry (though crying can be very good for you too). Plus Hermione is a bit ridiculous, though I think very human in her ridiculousness. Who hasn't felt utterly inept, even when they project to the outside world that they are put together. I know I have all the time. :D Anyway, thanks for reviewing! Hope you are well.

**Mrisa-**LOL, I don't think Hermione would have been convinced to stay if Draco and she had been alone. Though you can see from later chapters, as they grow closer, that he is constantly putting her in date type scenarios, though she doesn't get it, and then tricks herself into believing it's not intentional, but all in her mind. Poor girl. Thanks for reviewing. Hope you are well!

**Lady Sol-**Glad you liked Granger's letter. I stole her ferret insult from the books (at least I'm pretty sure I did. It's a quote up on the Harry Potter Wiki on the Hermione or Draco page.)

Also, thanks for your input on what you thought of the Draco and Hermione relationship. I think you were the one who correctly guessed when I thought Draco began showing interest in Hermione. And your insight were helpful!

As for apparating without a wand. I looked it up on the HP Wiki, and there are arguments for and against wandless apparition. As it seemed open for debate, I thought Hermione could do it wandless. Her HP Wiki article also said she was very good at apparition, another reason I thought she'd be capable, and since determination seems to be the most important D for apparating, I figured after the disaster that happened in Capri, she would have plenty of it.

Yeah, I can't believe their relationship moved either, but it had to happen. Like I said on the note for Grim Grotto part one, I was starting to get worried that things were stagnant. Up until that point, I felt like Hermione was going through a natural progression, but Grim Grotto Part One seemed like a retread. But I was hoping people would forgive me, because I was also trying to set it up to show how much things were different in Grim Grotto Part Two. Her adamant denials of any kind of deep feelings for Senor Malfoy were to contrast with her discovering that she was, in fact, head over heels in love with him. Anyway, thanks for all your kind words and reviews. I hope you are well! :D

**Omi- **Thank you. I have never ever ever updated this often. I don't know what has gotten into me.

**Hey –**I've noticed that the later in the night I post the lower the quality is, but I can't stop myself, so I end up going back and making corrections. But thanks for letting me know you like what I'm putting out there. Have a great day.

**Helena-**LOL, that does sound very nice, but I think people would jump down my throat if I had said that. It's a very romantic idea though, and if there are any good fanfics that begin with this premise, I wouldn't be averse to checking them out. :D

**Hannah –**I'm not sure what you meant by the review, but if you are saying it's a subtle dig at Draco for taking so long to say anything about his feelings to Hermione, then I agree with you. Though I wasn't intentionally thinking that at the time. It was just some casual thing that came out when I was writing it, probably born of Hermione's frustrations with the opposite sex. :D Thanks for reviewing.

**Willer**-Aw, Willer, I'm sorry. I've never had this kind of experience with Draco moving on before I found out, but after I dated my Draco, he eventually broke my heart. And it remained broken for a very long time. Heartache is never fun to experience, but I find that it can make a person better and even more whole, provided a person learns from it. I have learned lessons that I would never have been able to grasp had not the pain clarified what I was going through. I'm more empathetic and it has helped me understand when people are going through grief, and subsequently helped me to write better (though I would have derived little comfort from that knowledge at the time). It's very easy to put yourself down in these kinds of situations, but you should show yourself grace. You are human, humans make mistakes, sometimes very catastrophic ones, but there is always hope that things can be better. I pray that you find that hope and hold onto it until it becomes a reality, if you have not already. :D Thanks for sharing your experience with me.

**VV -**Thank you for your kind words. I am glad you find the Hermione/Draco relationship I have going on realistic. In same ways it's very real to me, because the emotions/thoughts/experiences are in parts derivative of my own life (not all, just parts).

As for why I made Draco a virgin…While I suppose it seems odd that a person as charming as this Draco is still a virgin, I like him this way more. I think it's believable to think he remained one through his fifth year (as Rowling never addressed more than snogging, to my knowledge. I could be wrong, haven't read the HP books in years.). After fifth year, his life went in the crapper, and I could imagine him not being in a relationship after that, because he's too focused on something else (keeping alive, fixing his family's name, etc). Given the way I've portrayed Lucius and Narcissa's marriage as a highly romantic one and given Draco's more aristocratic upbringing, I could see Draco being very careful of physical attachments, though as I said, he probably hasn't had a lot of time to think about them since Year 5.

As for how virgins act/do not act…Our experiences have been different, so that is probably why we think differently on this subject. We'll just have to agree to disagree on what Hermione might want/need when she finally loses her virginity. As for including sex scenes…I don't write smut, and as this story is rated K+ it wouldn't be appropriate to put that in here. However, there are tons of stories out there with it, so no one will miss my lack of contribution.

Thanks again for reviewing. I hope you are well. :D

**Carly -**Don't know what you meant by your review, but it made me laugh. Hopefully whatever you found disagreeable has cleared itself up. :D As for your other review...I'm sorry for saying sorry, but I felt like I was dropping a kind of emotional bomb, and I'm not very good at keeping my mouth shut. I wanted to give some kind of warning without totally spoiling what happened later. As for another female in Draco's future…This story has a happy ending, and that's all I'm going to say about that. :D Thanks for reviewing! Hope you are well!

**Saebin -**Thanks for your reviews. LOL, you have very high expectations of what Hermione will be able to tell Draco. :D She just told herself she loves him. We'll see if she can actually say it to his face. But I'm pulling for her courage and intelligence to somehow rise from the ashes.

**Snitchseeker255 - **Thanks so much! Though I'm not certain my story is quite ready to be married yet. It's not even a year old. :D I'm glad you also like this portrayal. It's a bit near and dear to me too! Thanks for reviewing! Hope you are well!

**Tippy -**Grazie, Tippy. Thanks for letting me know you like this story! Hope you are well!

**Anon -**Thanks! And thanks for saying I shouldn't be pressured. :D Your patience is duly noted and praised! Hope you are well!

**sunny sunshine - **Glad you liked the Teddy inclusions. I don't know if he'll make it back into the story. I try to keep cute, little kids at a minimum, because sometimes when I read them in stories, they annoy me. Not that I dislike kids, but they're never are as cute in the books as they are in real life, no matter how much the author tries. I should quit while I'm ahead. =D Thanks for reviewing! Hope you are well!

**Rebecca - **LOL, glad you liked the mermaids. I was flipping through that HP Lexicon site, and was dying because all they really mentioned was the grindylows, and they really aren't pretty at all. Fortunately, I stumbled upon the description of that mermaid in the prefect's bathroom. She was flirtatious, pretty, and supposedly like the ones in the Mediterranean, so I ran with that and somehow ended up with creatures you'd probably find in a strip joint. Thanks for reviewing!

**Elena - **Thanks for sharing your praise (I'm sad to have made you cry, but am happy that something seemed to resonate with you!) and very specific criticisms. I appreciate when people do that rather than make blanket statements about what they dislike. I'll take them one at a time.

Mom and Pop, I think, just means local and family-owned. The food they were eating was the local cuisine. Capri, being an island, would have lots of seafood, and the dessert is actually called Torta Caprese (Caprese meaning from Capri). It might be fancy sounding, but it's really just home cooking for them.

The sentence in which he transfigures things states that he is using her wand.

According to the HP wiki (which I assume is accurate, though with Wikipedia, who knows), states that there is debate over whether a wand is required to apparate. For the purpose of my story, I chose to be on the side of the debate that thinks wands are unnecessary.

I think this is one of those agree to disagree things. For something that is so painful for him, I think he would revert to a casual way to recapping things. It provides a kind of mental distance from the pain. When I was writing it though, I wasn't picturing him being cavalier or anything like that. I put that he shook his head, because he's trying to clear his mind, because he's so affected by it. As for the "am basically" being so American, well…I am an American. And while I like to think of myself as a bit of an Anglophile, I know I don't talk their talk. I do try putting in some British words, but I only use them when I feel like I can do so comfortably. I'd rather speak Americanese and for it to sound natural to my ears, then to try to be hip to the British slang and misuse it. A better writer would actively try to sound more British and learn how to do it properly. Right now, that isn't one of my concerns. It might become one later, if I continue writing in this fandom.

Confession, I've only read through book six, and haven't read any HP since Half Blood Prince came out. Perhaps H's love for R shines through in book 7 (minus the epilogue, since I'm pretending that doesn't exist), but I'm willing to chalk things up to infatuation and a very deep crush. Of course, I'm speaking from my own experience, but I had no idea who I was in high school or what kind of guy would be best for me. And what I thought was love back then really wasn't. She grew up during the war, but also after it and realized that though she cared/loved for Ron, she wasn't _in love_ with him. As for Draco, I never said he dated Astoria (though I referred to him kissing her during that elevator talk; that serves as the basis of Hermione including her). That whole line is supposed to be sarcastic anyway, as the other person he supposedly didn't get over was Millicent.

**Anonymous**

I'm sorry that this story tortures you. :D And that's taken me so long to put up a new chapter. For the most part, it takes me forever to write, but I'm glad this has increased your "Dramione" love! And thanks for your wishes. I would love to publish a book some day. But I have a long way to go!

**Sanz**

Thanks for the kind words! And that you find kooky Hermione's behavior realistic. She's probably a bit over the top, but I'm trying to make her humorous in the middle of all her huge dilemmas. Thanks for reviewing!

**Sazza**

Seriously, thanks for reviewing. My mind had hit a mental block, and your review helped me push through it. I'm still a bit hazy about how to resolve this (not the ending, but how I'm going to get there), but your ideas have certainly helped and I will be using one or two of them for sure. I could see Hermione trying to hide, which is what she does in the beginning of this chapter. But I think scenes without Draco aren't as exciting. So he'll be back in the next chapter. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. **:D**


	18. Penultimate Peril, Part Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So, it's taken me forever in comparison with the other updates, and I'm not even sure I like it. But here it is. BTW, I've started another D/Hr story called **Curiouser and Curiouser**. Be a dear and check it out. It's on my profile. **:D**

Written more in my A/N below. I will be answering my review replies from the last chapter in the next couple of days, but school work still calls, no matter how I try to ignore it. Until then, thanks for all the support!

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Twelve:**

**The Penultimate Peril, Part Two**

* * *

Hermione stared down at the parchment in front of her. The words kept blurring out of focus, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Her eyes, along with the rest of her, were exhausted. She hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since she was in Capri, and it was now Wednesday.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked down at her letter to the head of the Lycanthrope Pack and wrote the closing sentences of her draft. That being done, she laid her head on the back of her chair, trying to keep her mind off a certain blond-haired wizard.

It wasn't working.

She was going through some kind of Draco withdrawal, and it had only been five days since she had seen him last. And Pansy's wedding was still three days away. Hermione wasn't sure she'd make it that long. Every time her door opened, she looked up, expecting to see Draco and was disappointed when it was never him. It was irrational, she knew. She had no reason to believe he'd show up, but that didn't stop her from hoping. Maybe he would miss her too much to let another day pass without coming to see her. Merlin knew she missed him that much. Speaking with Lucius no longer seemed a frightening option. More like a growing necessity.

But she had been holding off on that for as long as possible. Part of it was fear (most of it, actually), but her stubborn pride was a contributing factor. So was her lack of sleep. Even if she wanted to match wits against Lucius, she didn't think she had the energy to do it. It wasn't that she couldn't fall asleep. No, the problem was staying asleep. She had never been subject to nightmares, not even during the worst of the war, but now they came every time she closed her eyes. Draco would visit her, like he did in the dreams she used to have before this whole mess. But when she revealed her feelings to him, he rejected her. Sometimes it was gently; other times it was accompanied with laughter, scorn, and insults. But the result was always the same: he did not love her back. She woke up every time, disappointed and with little desire to follow through on her promise to Ginny. Unfortunately, Hermione had the feeling the nightmares wouldn't stop until she did.

There was a loud knock on the door, distracting her from her thoughts. "Miss Granger?" a muffled voice came from the other side.

"Come in, Sheldon."

Groaning, Hermione lifted her head from the back of her chair, meeting the concerned eyes of her secretary. Sheldon Hightower was a recent graduate of Hogwarts. Hermione didn't remember much about him during her time there, even though he was only three years behind her. He was in Hufflepuff and had come with recommendations from Professor Sprout and her assistant and soon to be replacement, Neville Longbottom. Draco had hand-picked him to be her personal assistant, and she was happy with his choice. Sheldon was hard-working and kind. A model employee, albeit a rather shy one.

"Yes, Sheldon?"

"Sorry to wake you, Miss Granger, but I had some papers that needed to be signed."

Hermione took the papers and began signing on the dotted lines. "Not a problem. I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"I hate to pry, but are you doing alright? You've looked a bit…tired these past few days."

Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to bring Sheldon into clearer focus. "I suppose you could say that."

She could tell Sheldon wanted to ask more, but they rarely talked about their personal lives. Although she'd often catch Draco chatting with him when she left her office. Hermione looked at Sheldon suspiciously. What if he was reporting her behavior back to Draco? No, Sheldon would never do that. Her overactive mind was making her paranoid, that was all.

"Well, Miss Granger, it's a very slow day. I'm sure no one would notice if you left early. If you don't mind me saying so, you really should take care of what's bothering you before it gets worse."

He was probably right, much as she didn't want to admit it. "I think that might be a good idea. And you can leave early if you like."

"Thanks! I'll just get these papers sent and be on my way. Bye, Miss Granger. And get some sleep!"

"Bye, Sheldon."

As soon as he left, Hermione started gathering her things. But she wasn't heading home to take a nap. If she went back to bed, she'd just have another of her dreams, and she was sick of them. There was only one way to get rid of them. She'd been putting it off long enough. It was time to put her fears to rest, one way or the other.

Apparating to Malfoy Manor, she walked through the gates and up the lawn to the main entrance, wondering if she was losing her mind. There were people all around, creating arcs of light as they wielded their wands. The display was made even more interesting by the random sightings of levitating flowers, birds, and sculptures. Belatedly Hermione remembered that Pansy's wedding reception would be held here. All she was witnessing was Narcissa's elaborate preparations.

Staring at the door, Hermione lifted her hand to knock, but before she could, the door was opened, revealing her favorite house elf, Lulu. Just who Hermione wanted to see. Maybe she wouldn't have to meet with Lucius after all.

"Miss Hermione! Are you wanting to see Master Draco?" Lulu said.

"Yes. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" Hermione asked.

Lulu covered her mouth with her hands, and her already impossibly wide eyes opened further. Hermione's hopes for a reprieve sank. Lucius had gotten to the elf first. And he just so happened to be standing right behind Lulu.

"Hello, Miss Granger. What brings you here?" he said.

Hermione had to hand it to him. The man was just as impressive now as he was when she had first seen him in Flourish and Blotts back in second year. Almost two years of house arrest had done nothing to diminish his regal bearing. If their roles had been reversed, Hermione knew she wouldn't have done nearly so well. After all, less than a week ago she had contemplated becoming a reclusive cat lady. But this man was no bedraggled hermit covered in kneazle fur. No, Lucius Malfoy was every inch the patriarch of his family, exuding power and authority as he barred Hermione's entrance to Draco. Like some kind of unreasonable, blond-haired bridge troll.

Well, she'd handled trolls and Death Eaters before, and since Lucius was neither, she figured she was in for a walk in the park. Hermione squared her chin and stated her quest, "I've come to speak with you."

"I see," he said.

Hermione waited to be shown in, but Lucius just stood there. So Lucius was using stalling tactics, was he? Again, nothing she couldn't handle. Time for some small talk. Planting her feet firmly, Hermione motioned with her head to the commotion happening out on the lawn. "How are Narcissa's preparations for Pansy's reception going?"

Lucius brushed at a fleck of invisible dust from his robes, unimpressed with her observation and with everything in general. "As well as can be expected given the circumstances. Miss Parkinson's engagement was rather short. Almost scandalously so."

"Yes, it was very short. A month hardly seems enough time to plan a proper wedding."

The second she saw the gleam in his eyes, she knew it was the wrong answer. Crookshanks' eyes took on the very same glint when he had a mouse cornered. She almost expected a pair of retractable claws to sprout from Lucius's fingers.

"It seems, Miss Granger, you've given some thought on the subject. Any particular reason?" he asked.

Butter would not melt in her mouth. Or if it did, Lucius Malfoy would be the last to know. "None especially. Just making an observation."

Hermione was beginning to wonder how long Lucius would keep up this charade when he turned to speak to the forgotten house elf. "Prepare us our tea, Lulu. Then you may leave. Miss Granger and I have business to discuss."

"Yes, Mister Malfoy," Lulu said, before disappearing with a loud crack.

Hermione quietly followed Lucius into one of the Manor's many receiving rooms. The tea settings had already been laid out by Lulu. Hermione waited for Lucius to say something, but he just stood there, his eyebrows raised. After a few seconds, he said, "It is customary for the man to stand until the lady takes her seat."

Hermione promptly sat in the closest chair.

"You must try the raspberry scone. It is Narcissa's favorite," Lucius said, sitting down.

"I'm not that hungry. Thank you, though."

Lucius peered at her over his tea cup, scrutinizing her face. "Are you unwell, Miss Granger? I've never seen you refuse food before."

Was he implying she was a pig? Hmmph. No matter. She was not going to get tricked into doing something stupid. Pasting a smile on her face, she said, "How kind of you to inquire after my health, Mr. Malfoy. I'm perfectly fine, but thank you for asking."

"That is a relief. I'd hate for one of Malfoy Industries best employees to come down with a cold, especially with Miss Parkinson's wedding so soon. I have heard you will be attending with my son. Is this true?"

This man was as slippery as a snake, and she could see he was going in for the kill. Hermione lifted her teacup, but put it down the instant she saw how badly it was shaking. "That's the plan."

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked.

So much for subtle manipulation and veiled confrontation. Still, she did better with all-out attacks. It would save her the trouble of trying to guess what he was thinking.

"Draco and I have routinely spent time with one another outside of work. Why would this be any different?"

"Surely someone of your intelligence must see the danger of fraternizing with one's boss."

"I do not _fraternize_ with Draco. We are friends." It was true, for the most part. There was some information missing, like how she was in love with his son, but those were minor details, really.

"Only friends? You must forgive my surprise. That is not what is daily proclaimed in the papers, and my son has never refuted those claims."

Why Draco had not done that, she had no idea. Although, could she really expect Draco to discuss his personal life with his parents. She certainly didn't, and she wouldn't, no matter how much her mother begged and pleaded.

Given the opportunity to refute the Daily Prophet's claims about her relationship with Draco, Hermione found she could not. She should have, but she did not want to hear herself say how much of her 'relationship' with Draco was fabricated. So she evaded.

"If you suspected that Draco and I were in a relationship, why did you approve of me working for Malfoy Industries in the first place?"

"My exposure to your interactions with my son has been limited, to say the least. And we both know that paper prints more fiction than fact. Other than the Daily Prophet's reports, I had no cause to believe anything was occurring between you and Draco. That changed when you started working for my company."

"How could it change? You've been under house arrest the whole time."

She expected him to bristle at the reminder, but he only smiled. Deviously, of course. "Just because I can't leave the Manor doesn't mean I've cut off contact with the outside world. My employees are most loyal and more than willing to report on what is going on in the workplace."

Three guesses as to whom one of Lucius's spies was, and the first two did not count. If Hermione ever got with Draco, she'd find a way of having Sharon shipped to one of the factories in India or some other faraway place where she'd never have to think of that meddlesome cow ever again. Hermione managed to unclench her jaw and speak. "And what have you learned from your spies?"

"That you are infatuated with my son…to put it mildly. Some even suspect a relationship between the two of you."

"Let's for a second suppose that is true. If it worried you so much, why have you not mentioned this till now?"

"I have, just not with you."

Hermione felt herself grow pale. "You've talked about this with Draco?"

Lucius lips curled into the smirk Hermione had seen countless times on his son's face. It wasn't nearly so charming. "Let's for a second suppose that is true," he said, throwing her words back in her face. "But it seems pointless to discuss second-hand accounts from the Daily Prophet and your coworkers when I have you here. Tell me, Miss Granger, what are your intentions towards my son?"

"My intentions?" Hermione blinked, straightening up in her chair. "As I already told you, Draco and I have been nothing but professional." Except for the kissing and the slapping and the insulting and the whole falling in love bit, Hermione was the consummate pro.

"That is a dubious claim at best, and it does nothing to answer my question."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but discussing my personal life falls outside my job description." Maybe he'd forget they'd been talking about it nonstop since they entered the room. A girl could hope, couldn't she?

Lucius smiled over his tea cup. "It seems I've hit a nerve. Perhaps I should explain the reason for my interest, so my interference will not seem so offensive to you."

Hermione knew Lucius Malfoy was not the type to explain himself to anybody, least of all to someone he probably considered of questionable blood. But then her life had been reduced to nothing but one crazy event after another. Why should this be any different? Hermione nodded. "Alright."

"I do not ask your intentions because I have any objections to you being with my son. Indeed, I do not even care if he courts you while you both work at Malfoy Industries. I am, however, worried that you lack the fortitude to handle both your professional and personal responsibilities in an appropriate manner."

Lucius would accept her? And her non-existent romantic relationship with Draco? But why was he questioning her ability to do her job? In the midst of all her emotional upheaval the last couple of months, her job performance was the only thing she had felt good about.

"On the off chance that such a relationship between Draco and me would even exist, what makes you think I'm incapable of balancing it with work? Have I given you any reason to question my professionalism?"

"It's not a question of your professionalism. My concern lies with the other half. Would you be able to perform all the duties expected of a Malfoy?"

"What?" Hermione almost dropped her teacup. It almost seemed like Lucius was saying he expected her to marry Draco. But that was ludicrous.

"I will not lie. I never envisioned a muggleborn wife for my son. But neither did I envision a world where I would be asked to sacrifice everything precious to me for a man who ended up being a maniacal psychopath. A world where my mistakes nearly ruined my family." Lucius turned his head, looking out the window as he fiddled with the collar of his robes. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "I owe my life, freedom, and happiness—every good thing I've ever known—to the love of my family, particularly that of my wife. Were it not for Narcissa…If you are able to make my son even one tenth as happy as my wife has made me, I will not stand in the way."

Hermione was stunned, though she supposed she shouldn't have been that surprised. Draco and Narcissa were utterly devoted to Lucius, and for the briefest second, she saw why. But just like that, any softness about his person evaporated. He transformed back into the Lucius of her youth, complete with his haughty sneer and obdurate chin.

In his familiar drawl, he said, "But I am getting ahead of myself. After all, you won't even admit to having feelings for my son, how could I expect you to claim you're in a relationship with him, much less bind yourself to him unto death? This hardly seems like appropriate behavior for a woman who is, by all accounts, in love. Do you have an explanation for these inconsistencies?"

Um. Maybe it was because she was scared. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you don't talk about these things with your love interest's father before said love interest actually told you he loved you back!

Thankfully, it didn't seem Lucius was looking for an answer.

"Allow me to put forth my own theories. We are living in new times. Draco has done much to rehabilitate our family's image, but there are not enough galleons in the world to make him worthy of you in the public's eye. Naturally, as a Malfoy, I do not care what others think, but I'm not sure the same can be said of you. You may like my son, but not more than the good opinion of others."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Lucius wasn't finished.

"Of course, you may not care what the public thinks either, which brings me to my second theory. You are a scared little girl who fears failure. While this is less disturbing than my first theory, having a coward as a daughter-in-law hardly generates excitement."

Hermione would have liked to defend herself, but if she said anything, it would confirm her feelings for Draco. Besides, Lucius wouldn't let her. He was still talking!

"Or maybe it's just that you care nothing for my son. This would seem odd, as you spend so much time with him. But I am an old man. Perhaps interactions between males and females have changed since I married Narcissa. Is it now customary for females to toy with the affections of young male friends and string them along merely for their own pleasure? If you ask me, it's an odd way of showing friendship. After all, wouldn't a woman who is not interested in a man let him know?"

Hermione mumbled an answer.

"Pardon me. I could not hear you," Lucius said.

"I suppose it depends on the woman," Hermione said, her face flaming with anger and embarrassment.

"Well, the woman who ends up with my son best be prepared to stand with him in the face of any opposition, public disfavor, or personal fear. If she is capable of doing this, I would have no objections to her admittance into the Malfoy family. However, if she is ashamed of my son or does not know how to treat him with the respect he deserves, I will do anything and everything in my power to see that she has no part of our family. Is that clear?"

Hermione could have tried for some bold and daring answer. After all, Lucius was lecturing her on something he knew nothing about, and she wasn't even in a relationship with Draco! But her little acts of courage and defiance were becoming increasingly difficult. It was one thing when she was pretending to face evil incarnate. But Lucius didn't fall under that category. At least not anymore. He was the beloved dad of her beloved friend. He didn't hate her, and when it came down to it, the man was just trying to be a good father, even if the way he went about it was a little suspect. Hermione said the only thing she could say.

"Yes, sir."

Lucius smiled and took another small sip of his tea. "I'm glad we've reached an understanding. Now how may I help you?"

But Hermione needed to know something else before they talked about Draco's whereabouts. And as much as she hated to ask, she'd never have this opportunity again. "Has Draco…has he said anything to you about me?"

"What kind of father would I be if I revealed the contents of my private conversations with my son?"

That slimy, Slytherin bastard! So what if that was true. She doubted he would give their conversation the same consideration. And here she had actually felt kindly toward him!

Hermione was reaching the end of her patience. "Then what was the point of all this? If he doesn't like me, why the lecture?"

"Consider it a test."

"A test?!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. Draco told me you were an avid student, who always delighted in showing others your aptitude in all subjects."

In other words, Lucius was calling her a swotty know-it-all!

"Come now, Miss Granger. There's no need to be offended. It's not as if you failed."

"I hardly see how that matters."

"Don't you? I am giving you permission to court my son. Do you think I hand that out lightly?"

Hermione couldn't help herself. She laughed. "Draco needs your permission to…court?"

"I didn't say I was giving Draco permission."

That's right. He'd given it to Hermione. "But I don't _need _your permission to do anything. You aren't my father. Or my mother."

"But I am your boss."

That shut her up. Even if Lucius was housebound, there was only one year left of his punishment, and he still had plenty of pull with the board of directors. And who knew how much sway he had with Draco.

"Don't look so glum, Miss Granger. This is good news. Welcome to the family, provided Draco will have you."

Merciful Morgana! Yes, in a way this was very good news, but Lucius Malfoy was a lunatic! If this was his idea of a welcome, she'd hate to see what would have happened if she'd failed his test.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, with a friendly smile on his face.

His mood swings were giving her whiplash, but Hermione managed to close her gaping mouth. "Oh, yes, I was wondering, er, that is to say… you wouldn't happen to know where Draco is, would you? It's just he hasn't been in the office in days, and I was told by his secretary that you knew where he was."

"Ah, yes, Miss Vernus. She's a lovely young lady. And most helpful."

Hermione laughed under her breath. Sharon Vernus was about as helpful as an appendix, and just as difficult to get rid of.

"What was that, Miss Granger?"

"Nothing. Miss Vernus does her job quite…adequately. Now, if you could just tell me where Draco is, I would be most obliged."

"I'm surprised he did not tell you where he was. No matter, he's--"

"Hermione!" Narcissa burst into the room, a couple of house elves trailing in her wake. Lucius immediately stood from his chair, watching as his wife hugged Hermione. When Narcissa was finally seated, Lucius joined her. "Didn't I tell you she'd come, Lucius? And thank Merlin you have. Draco has been most unwell."

The admission set free butterflies in Hermione's stomach.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Narcissa, would you care for a raspberry scone?"

"Yes, thank you, dear." Hermione watched as Lucius prepared Narcissa her tea and brought both the drink and scone over to her. Once he gave it to her, she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I hope Lucius hasn't been scaring you too badly."

Hermione caught Lucius glancing over at her, and couldn't help but smirk. Former Death Eater or not, Lucius Malfoy was well and truly whipped. True, by himself he was intimidating, but with Narcissa, he was as frightening as her kitten Widdershins. "No. We've just been having a nice chat."

"Good," Narcissa said, taking a tiny sip of her tea. "As much as I'd love to catch up with you, Hermione, I have the reception to prepare for. And a reporter from the Prophet is stopping by later for an interview. Besides, Draco will get upset if he knew we kept you from him."

"He's here?" Hermione asked, looking over at Lucius, who returned her earlier smirk with one of his own.

"Unfortunately, yes. He's been an absolute beast since he returned from Capri. Did something happen?"

Hermione stared at her feet, unable to lie to Draco's mother or keep the smile from her face. So maybe she hadn't been the only one who suffered from being apart.

"Well, I'm sure things will turn out just fine, Hermione. You know, Lucius and I used to argue all the time. But let me assure you, the Malfoy men are quite teachable. You just have to find the proper motivation. Isn't that right, Lucius?"

"Whatever you say, dear," her husband replied.

"Draco should be upstairs in his room. Do you need Lulu to show you the way?" Narcissa asked.

"No. I can find it." Hermione blushed at the knowing looks Draco's parents shared, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it. She had passed Lucius's test and now it was on to Draco. Out of the cauldron, into the fire.

"Goodbye, Narcissa." Hermione turned and smiled at Draco's dad. "And thank you for the pleasant conversation…Lucius."

He raised one of his pale blond eyebrows in surprise, but nevertheless bowed his head to her as she left the room.

Hermione quickly made her way to Draco's room, her nervous energy making light work of all the flights of stairs. His door was open slightly, and she knocked against the wood. There was no answer.

"Draco?"

Still no answer. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside. As usual, everything looked immaculate. Not one to buck stereotypes, Draco had decorated his room in various shades of dark green. She waited a few minutes just inside the door, but soon got tired of standing and began walking around the room.

Hermione had never been in here without Draco, and as she was naturally curious, she started exploring. Making her way over to his desk, her fingers ran over the various knick knacks upon it before stopping on a picture of the two of them she had never seen before. Taking the frame in her hands, she realized it had been taken after one of his Quidditch matches. The magical images completely ignored her. Photo Draco was too busy smiling and ruffling Photo Hermione's hair while she pretended to be annoyed and swatted at his offending hands. Of course this stopped when Photo Draco pulled Photo Hermione into a big hug. Photo Hermione buried her face in his chest, no doubt hiding her smile and protesting how sweaty he was.

Hermione sighed. Well, at least Draco hadn't removed all traces of her from his life. It was enough to make her heart feel funny again.

"When I told Sharon you'd have to speak to my dad to find out where I was, I didn't think you'd have the guts to show your face here."

"Draco!" Hermione dropped the photo on the desk and cringed as it clattered noisily to the floor. Quickly picking it up, she saw that both Photo Draco and Hermione were glaring at her.

Having set the photo to rights, she took a step toward Real-Life Draco, and the heart that had been fluttering just seconds ago sank like a stone when he took a step back. "I think it's best if we conduct this conversation out of arm's reach. You have this nasty habit of slapping me," he said.

Hermione was too happy to see him to be actually offended. "To be fair, you deserved it the first time." Her little joke to lighten the mood did not go over well. In fact, it failed. Spectacularly.

"And the second?" Draco asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she said nothing. "So, to what do I owe the honor?"

It was then that Hermione noticed that he was wearing his Quidditch jersey. His hair was windswept, cheeks pink from exertion, and his fingers were wrapped tightly around his broom. He looked perfect, and she just stood there, letting her retinas soak in the sight of him. Without thinking, she blurted out, "I've missed you."

What happened to the filter that existed between her brain and mouth? Draco seemed as surprised as she did by the statement, but turned from her, taking off his Quidditch jersey and tossing it in a hamper. "It's only been five days, Granger."

Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face, leaving her cold. "Granger?" she choked out.

Draco peered over his shoulder, but only for a second. He continued putting on a clean shirt. "Fine, _Hermione_. Why are you here?"

But he'd already said Granger, and she couldn't stop thinking about that. Sinking into his desk chair, she sat there staring dejectedly into space.

"Do you mind getting to the point? I have a very important date later this evening, and I need to get ready."

"Date?" The words came out in a horrified whisper, and her vision of Draco became slightly blurry. Blinking back her tears, Hermione stood up from his chair. "Actually, it can wait until you return to the office."

She was walking towards the door, but he was nearer the entrance and blocked her escape. "Obviously you thought it important enough to meet with my father."

"And obviously you don't want to hear what I have to say, or you wouldn't be so rude to me." Again, where was her filter?! It seemed to be permanently stuck in the off position.

"Rude?!" Draco laughed, though it sounded painful to her ears. "The last time I saw you, you hit me, and now that you're here, I find you snooping through and breaking my things. And when I try to speak with you, you try to run away. Again. If I'm rude, then you're a monster."

It was clear he did not want to hear anything she had to say. And what was worse, he was being intentionally cruel.

Raising her chin, she swiped away at her tears. "I came here because I wanted to talk about what happened in Capri."

"Didn't you get my letter? In case you haven't, let me recap. I have absolutely no wish to discuss Capri until after Pansy's wedding."

"Fine by me!" She pushed at his chest, trying to dislodge him from the entrance, but he grabbed her wrist and held fast. "You know what, I don't think we should discuss it at all. Ever. I have more important things to do," she said, enraged.

"Have fun running," he said.

They both stared at each other, neither of them moving. Hermione didn't know what she was waiting for, or what Draco was for that matter, and she never got the chance to find out. Just then, Narcissa came bustling through the door.

"Ah, I see you two have made up," she cooed.

Now, Hermione respected Narcissa, and not just because she was Draco's mother. Narcissa was intelligent and powerful in her own right. After all, there weren't many witches capable of fooling Voldemort and taming Lucius Malfoy. So how was it possible Narcissa couldn't feel the tension in the room?

Narcissa chatted on, oblivious to the daggers being glared by Hermione and Draco. "The reporter from the Prophet is here," she informed them, smiling at Draco. "I hope you don't mind, but I said you two would love to speak with him." Before either of them could object, Narcissa waved goodbye and left the room, calling over her shoulder, "Don't be long. We mustn't keep him waiting."

Hermione looked at Draco, unsure of what to say or do. It was becoming a trend.

He released her wrist, and quietly said, "My mother labors under the delusion we are happily together."

"Yes, I can see."

"She's very fond of the idea, and I didn't see any harm in correcting her."

"I understand."

"I would be grateful if you played along for the interview. No need to break my mother's heart. I'll tell her afterward that it's all a lie."

"Draco…"

"You heard her, we mustn't keep them waiting." Hermione followed Draco, trudging down the stairs after him. Her mind was going a mile a minute, so confused by all the mixed messages she kept getting.

Draco stopped just outside the room Hermione had come from earlier. Without a word, he held his hand out to her and Hermione took it. Pushing the door open, Draco led her inside. Narcissa, Lucius, and the reporter were already waiting for them. Hermione and Draco shook hands with the reporter, Dirk Cavanaugh, then sat down on a love seat, facing Dirk. Narcissa and Lucius where off to the side, out of sight, but not quite out of mind. Hermione could feel their eyes boring into her.

"Thank you so much for granting me your first interview. As I'm sure you know, you two are the talk of wizarding England. I know how valuable your time is, so let's get started. First question, will you confirm once and for all whether you are dating?"

Draco squeezed her hand. Unfortunately, it was only because he expected her to answer. "Yes," Hermione said.

"Alright then, which is it?" the reporter asked, laughing.

"Yes, we are together," she said, a bit more firmly and slightly annoyed.

"And for how long?" Dirk asked.

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand, hoping he'd get the message.

"I don't think either of us is sure of the date," Draco said. "It just happened, without us really knowing."

"So not since September, when you were first spotted together?"

"Not officially, no. I was interested in her back then at that first Quidditch match, but I knew she couldn't stand me. You would not believe how many times I had to ask her to dinner before she'd say yes. I came up with every excuse just to see her again. Meeting her at the Ministry, my work, and at Hogwarts. Finally, she relented and agreed to spend some time with me. It gradually grew from there. And very gradually, because Hermione likes to play hard to get."

Dirk and Draco's parents seemed to find this outrageous lie funny, because they were all laughing.

"I do not!" Hermione said, indignantly. She turned to the reporter, and said, "I had no idea he liked me."

Draco smiled, easing his arm around her shoulder and taking her hand up again in his free one. "Brightest witch of the age, she is not," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

The reporter kept chuckling as Hermione tried to decide which emotion predominated: anger or happiness.

"Were you at all surprised by your relationship? I think I can honestly say no one ever expected you two to end up dating each other. Your backgrounds are so very different."

From the pressure on her hand, Hermione knew it was her turn. "At first, yes, it was very surprising. I thought he hated me. I didn't think he wanted anything to do with me, just like in school."

"I didn't at the time," Draco said, somewhat ruefully.

"What made you change your mind?" the reporter asked.

"She doesn't know this, but the first time I saw her after Hogwarts, at my aunt's place, I was instantly attracted to her. And I've only grown more attracted to her since." Draco turned toward Hermione, looking into her eyes. "She's beautiful, intelligent, kind, intriguing…brave." Draco said, running his thumb over the back of her hand as he spoke. It was a backhanded compliment, as she knew Draco thought her a coward, but it was too easy to pretend this was real. And Hermione wasn't the only one falling for it. When she looked away, blushing from the intensity of Draco's gaze, Hermione saw Narcissa nudging Lucius in the ribs, a large smile on her face.

The reporter nodded his head, momentarily checking to make sure his Quick-Quotes Quill was transcribing and embellishing everything. Seemingly satisfied with whatever it was writing, Dirk said, "Most guys would be scared to approach a war hero."

"I'm no different," Draco said, "but I was taught from a young age to go after what I want, no matter what. And I wanted her."

"Is that why you hired her to work at Malfoy Industries?" Dirk said.

"No. Hermione was the best person for the job, and she deserved it. I can't think of any other person who could do half of what she does. It was purely coincidental that I had fallen for this particular job candidate and that by stealing her from the Ministry I wouldn't have to worry about her being asked out or hit on by her Neanderthal coworkers."

"And how are things there, Miss Granger? Is he a good boss?"

Finally, an answer she didn't have to lie about. "Draco's the best. He respects and values my opinions and trusts my judgment, and he's even taught me a few things about marketing my ideas. I couldn't ask for a better boss."

"Or boyfriend?" Dirk asked.

"Or boyfriend," Hermione said.

"And what happens when you fight? Working together must complicate things," Dirk said.

All these questions had made Hermione uncomfortable, but this one was especially bad. It hit too close to home. But she answered it anyway, looking straight at Draco, hoping he would realize just how sorry she was for hurting him. "I care for Draco deeply, and I think he knows I would never _intentionally_ do something to hurt him. In fact, I'm so miserable when he's upset with me, I can hardly think straight. Needless to say, our fights don't last very long. We're always willing to work things out. Right, Draco?"

Hermione held her breath, waiting for his response.

"Whatever it takes," he said, before winking at the reporter. "Honestly, I think she picks fights with me just to make up."

"Another question for Miss Granger. How have your friends reacted to your relationship?"

"They've teased me about him, but other than that, they are very accepting."

"Even your ex-boyfriend, Ronald Weasley?" Dirk asked.

Hermione felt Draco's grip on her hand tighten, but she already knew she was supposed to answer the question. "Ron and I went on a few dates after the war, but it was nothing serious."

"Speaking of friends, Miss Parkinson is getting married in three days. Are there any such plans in your future?"

Draco laughed. "You'll just have to wait and see. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a very important meeting I must prepare for."

His date. Hermione had almost forgotten while she had been playing pretend. The remembrance was like a slap to the face. How fitting.

Draco stood up, holding his hand out to her. "You can floo home from my room."

"A kiss for the camera before you leave?" Dirk said. It was clear he was joking, but Narcissa declared it a wonderful idea.

Hermione halted in her tracks, staring down at her feet, uncomfortable. If Draco was about to go on a date, kissing her was probably the last thing he wanted to do.

"Hermione isn't the biggest fan of public displays of affection," Draco said, confirming her suspicions.

Narcissa laughed. "Come on, Hermione, one kiss won't hurt."

"Mother, I really—"

"It's fine, Draco," Hermione said.

Dirk looked surprised at the concession, but quickly got to work, telling them how to pose and stand. They ended up facing each other, with one of Draco's arms around her waist. They were now just waiting for the go ahead from Dirk.

"Give me a second to prepare the camera…Alright, got it," Dirk said. "Ready when you are."

Hermione leaned in, ready to peck Draco on the cheek, but he turned at the last second. His lips brushed against hers, and when they weren't instantly removed, Hermione's let her eyes drift shut. If this was her last kiss with Draco, she was going to savor it.

It all ended when Draco pulled away a few seconds later. Hermione tried to convince herself it was a good thing. She had been on the verge of grabbing his face and kissing him soundly. Not a good idea with his parents and a reporter were right there. Still, she felt so frustrated. And confused. If Draco was so upset with her, why was he doing things like this? Things like cradling her face in his hands as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Sorry, couldn't help myself. It isn't often you get permission from your mother to kiss your girlfriend."

"She doesn't look like she mind,." the reporter laughed, as Narcissa went to look at the pictures. Lucius remained on the couch, watching Hermione, who was in desperate need of some air.

Taking Hermione by the hand, Draco said, "It was nice speaking with you, Mister Cavanaugh, but I really should be going."

"Thanks for your time. The story should be published the day of Miss Parkinson's wedding."

Nodding to this mother and father, Draco led Hermione back to his room. As soon as they crossed the threshold he released her hand and said, "Spare me your lectures. I already know I shouldn't have done that."

Hermione watched as he walked to his closet, pulling out a different outfit. Then he went behind a changing screen. This was the perfect opportunity. He couldn't leave, and he couldn't see her face. It was time. She had to force herself to say it before he went on this date and fell in love with someone else.

Except she hadn't counted on Draco being such a fast dresser. He came back out, looking absolutely stunning. She'd never seen him so dressed up before. A powerful and irrational hatred for the girl he was going to see swept over her, but she pushed it aside. If she didn't tell him, she'd have no one to hate but herself.

Draco sat down on his bed. "Alright, I'm all ears, Hermione. What would you like to tell me?"

Screwing up her courage, she raised her face to look at him, only to find him busy with the process of untying the laces in his dress shoes. "What was so important it couldn't wait until Saturday?" he said.

Hermione placed a trembling hand on his wrist. "I can't do this if you're going to be this way."

"What way? Angry?" he said, looking up from his shoes for a brief instant. His voice may have been calm, but the emotion in his eyes spoke volumes. It was more than anger. Mostly hurt. "I'm sorry if my feelings aren't what you think they should be," he said, stuffing his feet in his shoes.

He was right, but not in the way he thought. "Draco…what I'm about to say… I need to know that whatever happens, we will remain friends," she said.

"That's not a promise I can make," he said.

"Well you better make it! Your friendship means more to me than anyone else's, and I refuse to lose it... I can't lose it."

Draco kept lacing up his shoes, ignoring her suffering. "Yes, well…you're highly self-sufficient. I'm sure you'll manage."

Why was he being so hard-headed?! Why wouldn't he look at her!

"It's not a question of managing, Draco. I know I would manage. But I don't want to manage. I would miss you terribly."

"You're being overdramatic."

Oh, sod it all!

"Draco, I'm in love with you."

By now he had finished putting on his shoes, but he still wouldn't look up at her, which was fine with her. It made it easier to keep confessing, and once she started, she couldn't stop.

Pacing the floor, arms thrashing wildly in the air, she let it all out. "You're right. I'm a liar and a coward. It's why I hit you. It's why I ran away. It's why I couldn't tell you what I wanted that night we were babysitting Teddy. It's the reason I've been acting like a lunatic around you for the past couple of months. Ever since that night of your mother's party, I haven't been able to look at you the same way. You will always be my friend, but I want so much more than that. I've tried fighting it and rationalizing it away, but I keep coming to the same conclusion: I love you, I want to be with you and I don't want you to be with anyone else but me."

There! She'd said it, and Merlin, did it feel good. Even if he didn't return her feelings, she had done what she had thought impossible: allowed herself to be vulnerable and ask for something she wanted, simply because she wanted it and not because she felt herself entitled to it.

But as the seconds passed and Draco still didn't say anything, her adrenaline rush began to ebb. And so did any comfort she'd gotten from finally being her brave again. Still, Hermione had no plans on reverting back to her cowardly self.

"Say something," she said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a woman's voice came out instead.

"Draco, are you coming?" Sharon said, her face appearing in the green flames of his fireplace.

Bloody hell! His date was with Sharon Vernus?! It didn't even make sense. Sharon was stupid, catty, and a complete bore. The only thing she had going for her was her looks, but what was that in comparison to all Hermione had to offer to Draco? A woman like Sharon was too selfish to love, and there was no way she could care for Draco like Hermione already did.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, glaring at Draco. He just stood there, glancing back and forth between Sharon and Hermione, indecision clearly written on his face. Well, this was it, she supposed. Time for him to make his decision. If he chose a date with Sharon over her, then he was a brainless idiot, and why would Hermione want to be with that?

"Oh, hello, Hermione. Didn't see you there," Sharon said, looking Hermione over. "I see you're still sick."

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked.

"Sheldon told me, and you look rather miserable. Actually, you've looked pretty bad this whole week. You really should be at home getting some rest."

"I'll take it under advisement, Healer Vernus," Hermione snapped.

Sharon's green eyes widened, filled with faked innocence. "Your sickness would explain the crankiness… unless I'm interrupting something?"

"Thank you, Sharon. I'll be there soon," Draco said, dismissing the witch.

"Alright, Draco. But just so you know, there's only two minutes before the reservation," Sharon said, smiling at Hermione before disappearing from sight.

So that was it. Draco had decided on a life of mediocrity with Sharon Vernus. How utterly cliché. And heartbreaking.

"I really wish you had waited until after Pansy's wedding," Draco said, staring forlornly at his fireplace.

"_I'm sorry_! Next time I confess my love to someone, I'll make sure to clear it with his schedule!" Hermione yelled, too upset to try to reign in her emotions or sarcasm.

"Hermione, it's not wha—" Draco paused, looking down at his watch. "Dammit! I have to go."

Hermione had already turned her back on him, determined not to cry until she got to her flat. "Fine, leave. I'll see you at work on Monday."

"Not Monday. Saturday. At Pansy's wedding."

"I refuse to go to the wedding with you." She might be in love with him, but she wasn't so desperate that she'd share him with Sharon Vernus. Draco must have lost his mind to think she'd even consider it.

She waited for Draco shout out his destination, but there was nothing. The room was completely silent. The desire to look over her shoulder was great, but she resisted, knowing that if she saw him leave for Sharon, she'd fall apart.

The last thing she expected was to be spun around and attacked by Draco. His hands gripped her arms and hauled her towards him, bringing his face so close to hers she had to drop her head backward to see him. "Gods, you are infuriating! And if I didn't love you, I swear, I would kill you," he said.

Hermione had no time to process this revelation, because as soon as it was said, Draco was kissing her. This time there were no cameras or parents around to save him. And wasn't there something else she was forgetting? Oh, yes. DRACO MALFOY LOVED HER!

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she snogged the living daylights out of him. When she was done, he'd be saying, "Sharon who?"and there was nothing Sharon could do about it. She couldn't stop Hermione from running her fingers through his hair, or caressing his face, or stroking his back. Or finding new ways to make Draco tremble.

Pretty soon, though, she forgot all about showing up Draco's secretary, and everything else for that matter. All that would compute was Draco's lips and hands, and they both seemed to be communicating the same thing: he loved her. She hoped her actions were doing the same thing, and she redoubled her efforts to let him experience how much she adored him.

Apparently, it was too much too handle. Draco broke away, gasping for air. "I _really_ have to go." Straightening his clothes and dropping kisses on her face and neck, he stumbled toward the fire place, dragging her with him.

Hermione's brain was still fuzzy. Fighting through the fog, she said, "Huh?"

"I've got to go."

"What?! You're still leaving?! But I tho--"

"Promise me you'll come to Pansy's wedding," Draco interrupted.

"But—"

Draco pulled back, stroking her face with his hand. "Promise me you'll be there."

Hermione caved. "Okay. But--"

Giving her one last kiss, Draco said the name of some restaurant she'd never heard of and disappeared.

Lips and heart still thrumming, Hermione wandered over to Draco's desk where their photo counterparts were politely clapping. Then Photo Draco dipped Photo Hermione back into his arms, and Real Hermione was treated to a repeat performance of what had transpired seconds ago. Only Photo Draco wasn't going to leave the frame for Photo Sharon.

Shaking her head, Hermione refused to dwell on it. Draco said he loved her, and she knew he wouldn't use those words lightly. And he couldn't have meant it in some platonic way either, because friends didn't communicate with their tongues or behave the way Photo Draco and Photo Hermione were behaving right now.

And yet…

There were so many reasons to be happy, but her traitorous mind kept bringing up images of Draco and Sharon sharing a romantic dinner in a candlelit restaurant. There had to be some reason he'd leave her like this, without any explanation, but she couldn't come up with one. She shouldn't have to come up with one either. By all rights, she should have been basking in the glorious knowledge that Draco Malfoy loved her back. And if it weren't for Stupid Sharon, Hermione would have!

Hermione paced around the room, trying to figure out what to do next. She almost followed Draco to the restaurant, but something told her not to. She needed to trust him. But she also needed someone to talk this over with.

All her usual options were unavailable. Ginny was in Bulgaria, competing in a Champions League Quidditch match. Harry and Ron were boys. While she liked them, she questioned Luna, Lavender, and Parvarti's judgment. Fleur and Mrs. Weasley were too far removed from everything, and she thought they secretly still wanted her with Ron, so they'd be biased against Draco. Andromeda and Narcissa had the opposite problem. They were too biased in Draco's favor to be trusted not to explain his behavior away. That left only one person, and in spite of all Hermione's former protests, this person was just the thing she needed right now.

Her mother.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.**

I'm very sorry for the delay, but this is my typical fanfic behavior. The weekly updates were what was out of the norm. Anyway, I hit major writer's block, and I'm not even sure I'm happy with what happened in this chapter. It was difficult for me finding out who would be the first to reveal their feelings to each other, and how it would happen. And I'm not sure I did the whole Lucius scene very well either. I didn't want him to be all sunshine and lollipops, but I didn't want him to be a total jerk either. I hope I struck some kind of medium that made sense. I'm not normally so insecure, but for some reason I am. Anyway! Thanks for still reading.


	19. The End, Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Wow, almost at the end. Depending on how long it gets, this last chapter could turn into three. I wanted to include more, but I haven't written yet, and what I had seemed long enough to comprise a chapter.

Hope you all had a wonderful New Year! May God bless you and keep you in health and happiness throughout the upcoming year!

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Thirteen:**

**The End, Part One**

* * *

The instant Hermione flooed home she rang her mother, but there was no answer. Leaving a rather vague message on the answering machine (her father would be listening, after all), Hermione hung up the phone and began pacing the floor. She was so full of information and had no one to share it with. Still, something like this couldn't be kept inside.

"Draco Malfoy loves me!" she yelled to her apartment, earning a disdainful glare from Crookshanks as Widdershins scrambled behind her couch to hide from the crazy lady.

"Don't look at me like that, Crookshanks," Hermione scolded, scooping the orange fuzzy puff into her arms and pressing his squashed face to her cheek. "You should be happy for me. And we're going to need to work on your behavior towards Draco. No more sharpening your claws on his robes and leaving fur balls in his shoes, do you understand?"

Crookshanks wriggled out of her grasp and stared disdainfully up at her from the floor, grooming himself. Oh well, at least Widdershins loved Draco. It would have to do for now.

But while Hermione would settle for one out of two of her cats getting along with Draco, she had yet to reconcile herself to Draco still going on that date with Sharon. Remembering the name of the restaurant, she called Wizarding Information to find out more about the eating establishment. What was it like? Did the menu consist of chips and hamburgers? Was it the kind of place in which a person would conduct business meetings? All she got for her troubles was laugh and the answer, "Sorry, miss, but the closest thing to business meetings that happen there are those between a client and his favorite prostitute." That was only mildly reassuring. Sharon wasn't a prostitute (that she knew of), but it was clear that the restaurant had a much more romantic atmosphere than McDonald's.

Hermione knew she was being silly by letting Sharon get to her. If Draco loved Hermione, he couldn't feel anything for Sharon. They were two very different kinds of woman, and it was Hermione that he said 'I love you' to. That had to count for something, right? Hermione was just making a mountain out of a molehill, wasn't she?

Widdershins meowed in agreement. Well, that settled it! Draco deserved the benefit of the doubt, and she was going to give it to him. So in spite of a possible meeting-type-thing with someone who may or may not be a prostitute, Hermione slept like a baby that night. Not once did she wake up, which was most fortunate since she was visited by the best dream she'd had in ages, one in which she told Malfoy she loved him and he said it back before proceeding to make out with her. All over Sharon's desk.

As soon as it was daylight, Hermione sprung out of bed, completely refreshed. After eating breakfast, she took particular care in getting ready. One never knew if Draco might spontaneously appear at work, and she wanted to look her best.

Getting off the elevator with a bounce in her step and a song on her lips, the first thing she noticed was that Sharon was not at her desk. In her place was a much older blonde lady transcribing something onto parchment. What a wonderful morning surprise! If it turned out that Sharon was no longer in the employ of Malfoy Industries, Hermione would have to find some way to express her gratitude towards her boss. Perhaps all over Sharon's desk.

"Hello. Where is Miss Vernus?" Hermione asked, feigning disinterest.

Without glancing up, the lady replied, "I'm sorry, but she's out of the office until Monday."

Hermione fiddled with a quill on the edge of the desk, trying to keep her fingers from tightening around it. "And Mr. Malfoy?"

"The same."

Not such a wonderful morning surprise.

"You wouldn't…um, happen to know if they are together, would you?" Hermione asked with as much dignity as she could after accidentally snapping the spine of the quill in half.

The woman finally looked up, peering over the rims of her glasses at Hermione and the broken pieces of her former writing utensil. Hermione could see the curiosity and annoyance swimming in the lady's eyes, but she chose to ignore it. "I'm sorry, Miss…"

"Gran—" At the last second, Hermione realized she didn't want any of this getting back to either Draco or Sharon. Time for some fast thinking. "Grangreen."

Grangreen?! Hermione fought back a groan. All that brain matter, and all she could come up with was a name that sounded like a flesh-eating disease?! But it was too late to take it back. And it didn't even look like the secretary believed her. Hermione smiled through the shame.

"Well, Miss…Grangreen, I'm sorry, but I can't answer your question, because I don't rightly know. I was hired from a temp agency and will only be here through Friday. But I'll leave a note for Mr. Malfoy, letting him know you stopped by."

"No need to trouble yourself," Hermione said. When the secretary kept writing, Hermione placed her hand over hers. "Really. It won't be necessary. I'll just speak with him when he gets back. And I'll bring you another quill later today." The lady stopped writing her note, which was a good thing, as Hermione wasn't quite certain of the legality of obliviating the woman.

Satisfied that Draco would never find out about a certain Miss Grangreen's visit, Hermione walked down the hall to her own office, trying not to let Draco and Sharon's joint absence dishearten her.

As she approached, Sheldon glanced up, his smile disappearing the instant he saw her face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I think so. I'm much better than yesterday, in any case," she said as she walked past him toward her door.

"Well, cheer up. I'm willing to bet your day will get much better."

"We'll see," she said, opening the door to her office. Her nose was immediately hit by a wall of fragrance.

Quickly closing the door behind her, Hermione stared slack jawed at the flowers covering her office. Like that, her melancholy mood evaporated, replaced with the certainty and euphoria she had felt the first time Draco Malfoy had confessed his love for her. Floating over to her desk and taking a seat, she noticed there was a card in the bouquet in front of her. Her stomach fluttering pleasantly, she reached for it and tore it open. Inside was Draco's familiar script.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_This is a letter of business, not love. As such, don't expect me to do anything so degrading as tell you I can't stop thinking about you or that I wish you were here with me. In fact, far from being charmed by you, I'm actually angry. You've taken possession of my thoughts and robbed me of my concentration. Even more frightful is the realization that you've made it nearly impossible for me to be anywhere but in your office. Knowing how much I hate working, you can imagine my anger. _

Hermione sank deeper into her chair and was unsuccessful in stopping a girlish giggle from escaping her lips. Draco missed her and wanted to be with her! Hungrily, she read on.

_Despite your attempts to bewitch me, I remain in complete possession of my wits and manhood. Unlike the Potters and Weasleys of the world, I will not be reduced to a slobbering baboon because of some woman. And before you bring up the flowers as proof of my affection, there is a perfectly logical explanation for them. It's merely coincidence they are your favorites. My mother purchased too many for the reception, and it seemed a waste to throw them away. You can thank me later. _

Merely coincidence, ha! Those flowers weren't at the mansion yesterday.

_Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I regret to inform you I will be out of communication until Pansy's wedding. Given yesterday's interesting turn of events, I didn't want there to be a misunderstanding about my absence. I realize there are still many questions that need to be answered, but as I am an important and sought-after person, my schedule is regretfully (and disgustingly) full. In fact, I barely had any time to write this letter. I ask for your patience and understanding, which I wholly deserve considering I've had to put up with quite a lot from you already and expect that will not be changing any time in the foreseeable future._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Draco B. Malfoy_

_P. S. I love you._

Hermione beamed, reading his words over a few more times before tucking away her first love letter into a desk drawer. Even though she knew he was busy, she quickly penned a reply, though hers was much shorter.

_D-_

_I love you, too._

_-H_

That being done, Hermione dutifully set about her work. Or at least she tried to. It was difficult at first, what with her love letter taunting her from her desk drawer. Reading it until she had it memorized, she finally settled down to working, and before she knew it, the day was over, and she was back in her flat, Draco's letter firmly in hand. She was just about to read it again, when she noticed the light on her message machine blinking. Hermione rushed over, sensing it was from her mother.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm awfully busy with patients. I'd still love to meet and chat. I'm free for brunch this Sunday. And if you invite Draco, I promise to make your father behave. Love you! Good bye!"

Hermione deleted the message, disappointed that her mother was unavailable. She tried comforting herself by picturing her and Draco at Sunday brunch with both her parents, but the image was hazy. After all, what were she and Draco? Obviously, more than friends, but that wasn't very informative. And whatever they were, were they a thing that would eat Sunday brunch with her parents? Or would that be too soon? Would Draco think she was trying to trap him into a commitment he wasn't yet ready for? And what would her parents think? Yes, her mother had already marked Draco as her future son-in-law, but Hermione's father was another story entirely. Ever since she'd introduced Draco to her family, her dad would leave the room every time his wife mentioned Hermione's blond-haired friend. And that was when Draco had only been her friend and not her, well, whatever he was.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her forehead. Perhaps things weren't as settled as she thought. All the more reason to keep it a secret. There were still hundreds of questions that needed to be answered, and she pulled out a parchment and began to list as many as she could think of. It was an activity that occupied all her free hours until the day of the wedding, and by Saturday, her scroll was over three feet long.

The day of the wedding, Hermione woke with her stomach full of butterflies. She raced around getting ready, hoping that if she moved faster, she'd see him that much sooner. Unfortunately, it ended up that she was ready for the wedding two hours before she even needed to be there.

She decided to read to pass the time in the only way she knew how, and had finally gotten into the book when there came a noise from her chimney. Heart in her throat, she ran from her bedroom to the living room, stopping suddenly at the sight of Ron Weasley emerging in her living room.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

"Is that any way to greet your oldest friend?"

"Sorry, Ron, I just thought you were someone else."

"Who? Father Christmas?" Ron laughed as he brushed the floo powder off himself. "Do you have anything to eat?"

"Help yourself to whatever you can find," Hermione said, wondering why he was here and dressed like a slob when the wedding was now only an hour away.

Hermione followed him into the kitchen and watched as he dug around her refrigerator and cupboards. "Geez, Hermione, don't you keep any alcohol here?"

"Of course not."

"Hermione…" Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

"Fine, I have some, but I'm not giving it to you. It's almost time for Pansy's wedding, and I'm not going to let you show up drunk."

"I'm _not_ going to show up drunk."

Hermione stared at him, unimpressed. Ron and self-discipline hardly went hand and hand. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Oh, I'm going to get well and truly pissed, but you needn't worry about me showing up drunk at the wedding," he informed her, still searching her kitchen.

"And why is that?"

"I'm not going."

"What? Why not?"

"Aha! Found it!" Ron shouted, hitting his head on the inside of the cupboard in his excitement. Pouring the firewhisky into a glass, he took a drink, rubbing his head with his free hand. "Did you know Lavender's going to the wedding?" he said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"No, I did not. I wasn't aware she knew Pansy or Lance."

"She doesn't, but that git Seamus Finnigan does."

Hermione sat down next to him, wresting the glass from his hand, but he just drank from the bottle, sloppily wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Ron! I might want to drink some of that later!" she said, snatching the contaminated bottle from him.

But Ron wasn't listening. His eyes were glazed over, staring off somewhere in the distance. Maybe she was being too hard on him.

Waving her hand in front of his vacant face, she quietly said, "Is that why you aren't going? Because you don't want to see her with Seamus?"

Ron nodded his head miserably. "We haven't even been broken up for two weeks, and she's already seeing that wanker."

"Maybe they're just going as friends."

Ron laughed, the sound bitter and cynical and very un-Ron-like. "Really, Hermione. You mean to tell me that if Draco went out with some random bint, you would think there was nothing going on?"

Merlin, she hoped so. But that's not what she said. "Draco has nothing to do with this."

Ron snorted. "Right. I forgot that you two aren't dating. My mistake."

"Regardless, Seamus is your friend—"

"Not anymore he's not," Ron interrupted.

"And Lavender would never purposefully hurt you."

"You don't know Lavender. She's scary when she's angry, and I've never seen her this upset. She won't even let me talk with her."

"Did she tell you why?"

"Not really. Just that we were through, and she needed to move on."

Hermione's face softened, though she tried not to let it show. Things sounded pretty bad for Ron. "Is that what you want?"

"Of course not! And I sure as hell don't want her with Seamus." At the mention of the Irishman, Ron seemed to become unhinged, standing and yelling, whilst waving his hands in the air like a maniac. "_Finnegan_! Of all the…She dumped me because she said I wasn't ready to commit, and then she turns around and starts dating that, that…scallywag."

Trying to keep Ron from jumping off the deep end, Hermione kept her voice quiet and calm. "Seamus is not a scallywag."

"Not only is he a scallywag, he's the scalliest scallywag of them all."

"Scalliest? That's not even a word," Hermione reminded him.

"Doesn't matter. He hasn't been in one successful relationship his entire life. Just one girl after another after another. And now he's moved on to Lavender." Ron hung his head in his hands. "What am I going to do?"

"Are you ready to commit to her?"

"I _am_ committed to her, but she wants to get married," Ron pulled at his collar, as if the room had suddenly become stifling. "I'm only twenty years old."

"So?"

Ron stared at her, eyes wide. "You mean that if some guy proposed to you, you'd marry him?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It would depend on the guy. But if I were in love with him, and I trusted and respected him, why not?" After all, hadn't she been fantasizing about her and Draco and their beautiful babies for the past months?

Hermione's eyes widened. Merlin! She was ready to commit the rest of her life to some guy she had just realized she was in love with. Some guy whom she had hated up until last year. And shockingly enough, she had no problem with that at all. But that was the worrisome thing, because even if Draco had said he loved her, he couldn't have possibly want her as much as she wanted him.

The unevenness of their feelings towards one another was a terrible prospect. She'd never been in love before, and it wasn't like her to pursue anything without first knowing all the possibilities and outcomes of her actions. But Draco wasn't some book she could study, and as far as human beings were concerned, he was one of the most complex individuals she'd come across. She'd never met anyone so capable of hiding his feelings. He was unpredictable, and so very different from the person she had grown up with and expected him to become. She adored those things about him, but at the same time, they inspired dread. How was she supposed to guard her heart against the unknown?

"Because…because it's…" Ron spluttered, waving his hands in the air again and reminding Hermione that he was still in the room. "I just can't get married. Not yet, at least."

Hermione shook her head, trying to inject some logic into the conversation and convince Ron that wanting marriage was alright, and that she shouldn't worry about already feeling so strongly for Draco. "We're twenty years old, Ron, not twelve. You have a steady source of income, and so does she, so you needn't worry about finances. You've been with her for almost two years, and every time you've broken up before, neither of you has dated anyone else."

"Her-my-o-neeeee," he whined, "how can you expect me to think straight if you won't let me have anything to drink?"

"Honestly, Ron, it seems like you two want very different things. Perhaps it's for the best that you aren't together anymore."

"But what if she ends up marrying Seamus? Or some other guy?"

"If you don't want to be with her, you can't expect her not to see anyone else."

"But she said she loved me. You'd think she'd at least be broken up about it. Crying at home, or something."

"Or coming to her friend's house to get drunk?" Hermione asked, hoping he'd take the hint and realize that he might just be wanting Lavender as much as she wanted him.

"Exactly!"

"Well, how long would you expect her to wait for you? A year?"

"I don't know, but a lot more than two weeks! Sheesh, Hermione, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were on her side."

Hermione sighed, carefully choosing her next words. "I'm not on anyone's side. But you have to admit that Lavender seems much more invested in the relationship than you. It doesn't take a genius to see she adores you. And this is the first time she's broken up with you. Every other time, you've pushed her away, and she's patiently waited for you. Don't take this the wrong way, but if you don't love her like she loves you, why are you so upset?"

Ron's blue eyes narrowed, and she knew he wasn't ready to hear what she'd just said. "I do love her. I love her more than anything."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's marriage! That's forever."

"Hardly."

"This isn't the muggle world. I couldn't divorce her. I'd have to stay with her until death."

Hermione didn't argue the point. She knew divorce rates in the wizarding world were nearly non-existent. And maybe for a pureblood like Ron, there was an even greater stigma to it. Besides, if someone was already thinking about divorce at the beginning, they really shouldn't be getting married anyway. So she tried another tactic. "But if you love her, why wouldn't you want to spend forever with her?"

Ron pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "I can't think about this anymore. But you're right, I should go to the wedding. And with you."

Hermione fought against wrinkling her nose at the idea. It wasn't that she didn't like Ron; she just didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea, especially Draco. "I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"And why not? It's not like you're dating anyone, are you?"

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Aw, come on, Hermione. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that, if you aren't going with anyone, why can't we go together?"

"Because this is between you and Lavender. I don't want to get involved."

"She broke up with me two weeks ago. Two! And she's already found a date. I can't just show up there by myself. I'll look pathetic."

"How is showing up with me going to make you look any better?"

"Lavender's been jealous of you since sixth year. She actually thinks the reason why I won't settle down with her is because I'm still not over you."

"That's stupid! She has no reason to be jealous of me."

"That's what I told her, but she wouldn't listen."

"I'm not going to be used to make someone else jealous. It's wrong and immature, and it's bound to backfire."

"Please, Hermione! We'd just be going as friends. I promise I won't try to give her any ideas."

Well, at least if Ron went, he could talk with Lavender, and maybe sort things out. His other alternative was a lonely day spent with her bottle of Ogden's. Quite certain she'd regret it, Hermione agreed. "Fine. But only if we stay next to Harry and Ginny at all times."

Ron lunged for her and took her in a great hug, lifting her off the ground. "Thanks, Hermione. You're the best."

Once her feet were back on the ground, Hermione smoothed out her dress and looked at her wedding date. "Well, aren't you going to go change?"

Ron glanced down at his sweat pants and raggedy Quidditch shirt. "Right! I'll be back to collect you in about ten minutes."

"Make it fifteen. You need to brush your teeth. Your breath smells of alcohol."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother. Be back soon." Then he left for her chimney.

Hermione sat down with a sigh. Today was going to be a long day, but at least she'd see Draco. The thought warmed her more than ten gallons of firewhiskey.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review. I'm really sorry Draco was not in this chapter (well, apart from his letter). I promise you he makes a triumphant return in the next chapter! **


	20. The End, Part Two

A/N: Really, really, REALLY long time. I know, and I suck.

Bad news, good news. Bad news first: This isn't over yet. There is still one more chapter and possibly an epilogue (though the epilogue I'm not super duper concerned about). But this 'last' chapter just kept getting longer and longer. I think if I combined this chapter with the next one, I'd be at around 45 to 50 pages in a word document, which is way too long! Good news: I told myself I wouldn't post this chapter unless I felt certain I could post the next one in the coming two weeks. I've been such a bastard for leaving this open for a year and half (!) now, and I didn't want that to happen again. More bad news, I'm not super enamored of this part, so sorry. But more good news, I really like what happens in the next chapter.

Thanks to my beta, likethegaiaphage, who is awesome and patient and reads multiple, unfinished drafts. Also thanks to my friend, Medea Smyke, the best writer of Vick/Prim to ever grace the net, who pokes and prods and tries to get me to finish stories.

In case anyone is wondering, I have intentions (lol) of finishing Curioser and Leftovers. I also have written 50K of another multi-chapter that I'm excited about. It will be the first time I've ever written anything from Draco's POV. However, I am not posting any chapters from that until it's done or near done. I learned my lesson from this.

Thank you all for continuing to think that I could finish this. As of late, the reviews I've been getting have provided me the motivation I needed to finally put this sucker to bed.

**Please read this with low expectations. I think that way you'll like it more. =D**

* * *

**Unfortunate Event Thirteen:**

**The End, Part Two**

* * *

'I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.'

Hermione held her breath as the groom leaned in. The kiss was perfect, just like in the fairytales her mother had read to her when she was a little girl. When the groom finally pulled away, the official turned to the crowd and declared, 'May I present to you Mr and Mrs Draco and Hermione Malfoy-Granger.'

Wait. That didn't sound right. Hermione tried again. 'May I present to you Mr and Mrs Draco and Hermione Malfoy.'

Much better. It wasn't that she didn't like her last name. But Hermione Malfoy had such a nice ring to it. In fact, it sounded quite perfect.

Merlin, she was pathetic. But in her defense she was dying to see Draco, and her withdrawal had probably damaged the part of her brain that dealt with rational functioning. And the impairment would not let up for another hour at least. Because Draco was part of the wedding party, their reunion would have to wait until the reception. But Hermione had chosen a seat near the aisle, just so Draco could see her as he walked by.

With a shake of her head, Hermione pulled herself out of another of her imagination's fantasies, hoping no one noticed the goofy smile on her face. As surreptitiously as possible, she moved in her seat, peering around Ron and Ginny, who flanked her. As far as she knew, no one in the vicinity was a practicing Legilimens. Indeed, every known Legilimens was dead. Still, if such a thought were to be discovered, she'd die of embarrassment.

'Hermione,' Ginny whispered through the side of her mouth. 'You're squirming around like someone put a Flobberworm down your dress.'

With renewed effort, Hermione managed to sit still through the rest of Pansy and Lance's wedding ceremony. Quite a feat considering Ginny kept poking her in the side, asking if Hermione had yet spilled her guts to Draco about her feelings. Knowing it would annoy her friend, Hermione smiled and placed a finger to her lips. After all, it was rude to talk during a wedding ceremony.

After Lance and Pansy had kissed, the recessional music rang throughout the building and the bridal party made their trek back down the aisle. Dressed in pink and black, Draco looked straight ahead, his face a mask of cool indifference. Probably necessary considering Draco was not a big fan of pink, even though it was only his tie, pocket handkerchief, and boutonniere that were tinged rose. Still, Hermione thought he looked smashing. And even more so, when just as he passed her, his face lit up in a brilliant smile.

'You told him, didn't you?' Ginny said, grinning like she'd just caught a snitch.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Hermione replied, smoothing out the material of her dress.

'Sure you don't. And remember who forced you to do it.'

'Would you keep your voice down?' Hermione snuck a look behind her. There was no one she recognised, but unfortunately everyone knew her. After all, she was Hermione Malfoy. Er, Granger.

'As I recall,' Ginny said, not speaking more quietly in the slightest, 'you said that if things turned out well—'

Hermione clamped her hand over her friend's mouth. 'So help me, Ginevra, if you don't lower your voice, I'll tell Harry about how you walk around naked in his invisibility cloak!'

Ginny's mouth dropped open with a gasp. 'Who told you?'

'You did. Just now.'

Ginny's brown eyes glinted with murder, but she nodded her head in resignation.

'Did someone say my name?' Harry asked, peering over at the girls.

'No!' Ginny answered, standing up and taking Hermione's elbow hostage. 'Excuse us, boys. Hermione and I are going to have a little chat. Alone.' Ginny elbowed her way through the throng of guests exiting the church. Hermione stumbled towards the nearest lady's room, forcibly dragged there by Ginny. Pushing the door open with more force than necessary, Ginny slammed it behind them, and then rounded on Hermione, wagging her finger just below her nose.

'You are never to use that against me again. Do you understand? Ever!'

Hermione smiled, scooting out of arm's reach. 'Is it just walking around naked that makes it embarrassing, or are you more humiliated that you defiled the cloak by letting it touch your nakedness?' An icky thought came to her, wrinkling the skin between her eyebrows and nose. 'You do wash it afterward, don't you?'

'Of course,' Ginny hissed. The blush on her cheeks climbed up her face, eventually blending into her red hair. Oh, this was fun. More fun than usual because of how infrequently Hermione could actually make the usually unflappable Ginny squirm. Best to savour this.

'Tell me, Ginny, do you go out in public like that? Or is it just around your flat?'

'We came in here to discuss Malfoy—'

'Because I don't really see the point of wearing an invisibility cloak to walk around your apartment naked. Who would see anyway? But then that begs the question, what places have you visited starkers?'

'Bet the first place you'd go is Draco's bedroom!' Ginny snarled.

'That's not true!' Hermione objected, now blushing as brightly as Ginny. With as much dignity as she could muster, she straightened her friend out. 'I'd visit Flourish and Blotts. Then I'd go to Draco's.'

'I knew it!'

The sound of a toilet flushing interrupted their argument. The two girls turned toward one another, eyes and mouths wide open. After a second of stunned quiet, all silent hell broke loose.

'This—is—payback,' Ginny mouthed as Hermione mouthed back, 'Don't-leave-me! Don't-leave-me! Don't-leave-me!' right until Ginny ran into the nearest and _only_ remaining stall.

Before Hermione could make a dash for the exit, the door to the other stall began to inch open. The blood instantly drained from her face as she waited for the witch to walk out. What had they said before they realised they weren't alone? Draco. Apartment. Naked.

Oh Merlin.

The edge of the sink dug into her skin as she held on for dear life, trying not to pass out. Surely the person behind stall number two was no one of any importance. Just some doddering old woman who couldn't hold it in anymore. And they probably had no idea who Draco was. Draco was a common wisarding name, like John or Michael in the Muggle world, right?

Bugger!

Hermione ducked her head, attempting to hide her famous face behind her hair. Over the years, she'd learned to tame the unruly curls with a series of straightening potions and serums. But now she'd give anything to have the hideous curtain of brown bushiness back, because then it could cover her shame and humiliation. Even the straight, long hair she sported now was of no use. To look pretty for Draco, she'd pulled it back. Damned wedding! Of all the days to have to play dress up! She unfastened the hair clip and undid the various sticking charms that held her updo in place, quickly running her fingers through the strands. They weren't the usual curly mess. They were worse. Courtesy of her barrette, her hair sported a horrible kink. No matter. She'd fix it all after this person left. If only they'd come out of the stall first!

The weight of doom hung over her, so heavy its pressure bowed her head. The white porcelain of the sink glinted up at her, and she studied its smooth veneer, hoping to display a similar affect. _Breathe in, Hermione,_ she told herself. _Just stare into the sink. It will be alright. Yes, it will be alright. _The bathroom voyeur could not see her reflection in the mirror with her head hanging down. Plus, there was another added bonus: if she threw up, she wouldn't have to run anywhere. Drawing her shoulders to her ears, she hunched over the counter, making sure her hair covered the side of her face nearest the sink the nosey parker would use to wash their hands.

The door finally creaked open, and Hermione's shoulders tensed. Each click of the person's heels against the tile floor was like a stake through her nerves. With her head bowed down, the first thing Hermione noticed was the shoes. Black stilettos with insanely high heels and ridiculous amounts of toe cleavage. Shoes that would have tripped Hermione and left her limping for days. However, this person had no such problems. She might as well have been wearing flip flops. The thought comforted Hermione slightly. Maybe the bathroom voyeur moved with such grace because she'd been wearing those torture devices for years. Yes, only an 80-year-old woman would have mastered the art of high-heel walking. Also, an 80-year-old woman would probably have the hearing of, well, an 80-year-old woman. And maybe her eyesight would be bad too! Was it wrong to wish deafness and blindness on a complete stranger?

'Hello, Hermione.' A highly amused and young voice echoed against the walls of the suddenly too small bathroom.

This could _not _be happening! She'd fought against Voldemort, never cheated on her homework, and didn't have any rebellious body piercings. So why was she being punished?

'Hello, Sharon,' she choked out. A quick glance up revealed the witch looking perfectly perfect in a vivid emerald gown. It also revealed how perfectly horrid Hermione's new hair style looked. And her current posture made her look a stone heavier. Brilliant.

'Lovely wedding, isn't it?' Sharon asked as she checked out her make up in the mirror. No shiny nose. No runny mascara. No lipstick on her teeth. Hmph.

'Yes.'

'Did you see Lavender Brown with Seamus Finnegan? They make a very handsome couple.'

Odd. She and Sharon had never indulged in chit-chat before. But it seemed harmless enough. 'I wasn't aware you knew them.'

'I don't. I overheard someone speaking about them. It's amazing the things you can learn just by having your ears and eyes open. Tell me; is Narcissa aware you wish to visit her son in the nude?'

So that's how it would be. Fine. 'I'm sure she'd welcome it,' Hermione snapped.

Sharon shrugged her elegant shoulders, obviously unperturbed. 'You're probably right. Lucius, on the other hand, would be less inclined to look upon illicit couplings between his son and subordinate with a blind eye. Bad for business. And reputation.'

Touché. Lucius had only given permission for Hermione to be courted by Draco, not show up naked in an invisibility cloak. It did not matter that Hermione had only been joking with Ginny or that she had absolutely no intention of visiting the Malfoy heir in anything other than very sensible clothes. It wouldn't be the end of the world, but she did not particularly savour the idea of standing in front of Lucius as he lectured her about propriety and decorum.

Apparently she had taken too long to answer. 'See you at the Manor, Hermione,' Sharon said sweetly, before flouncing out of the bathroom in a cloud of perfume.

'Damn it!' Hermione said, as Ginny stumbled out of the bathroom stall laughing.

'This is what happens when you threaten me. Consider this your lesson.'

Hermione moaned, truly inspecting her wretched new hairdo for the first time. 'This cannot be happening.' Whipping out her wand, she reconstructed the old style, but naturally it looked nowhere as good as it had originally.

'Time for some answers, Hermione. Did you finally confess your undying love to the ferret?'

'Yes.'

'I was right, wasn't I? He felt the same way.'

The same way? Probably not. But, 'He did say he was in love with me.'

'Then why didn't you set that snob in her place?'

'Draco and I discussed our feelings for each other. Not how we felt about me showing up at his residence naked!' Hermione shook her head, and a tangle of hair fell from its confines.

'Maybe she won't tell,' Ginny suggested. How very kind of her. Too bad it was obvious Ginny didn't actually believe it. Sharon the gold-digger giving up an opportunity for Hermione to look bad in Draco's eyes? Not bloody likely.

'I didn't even mean it!'

'That's what makes it even funnier.' Ginny wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulder, drawing her to her side. 'Oh, you darling little prude. Malfoy will never let you live this down.' And in a whisper she added, 'I can sneak you the invisibility cloak when the time comes.'

'I'm waiting till I'm married,' she stammered out. A flush stole down her face and neck as she pushed those kinds of thoughts out of her mind.

'Of course you are,' Ginny said with a wink. 'Good thing you only have to wait until April.'

Hermione sighed, frowning at her reflection.

'Come on, Hermione. You look fine. Draco's waiting.'

Sending one last pitiful glance at her reflection, Hermione allowed Ginny to drag her from the bathroom.

A very irate Ron and a mildly irritated Harry were waiting for them. 'Finally! Did you two fall into a toilet?' shouted Ron as they drew near. A few witches and wizards hanging about looked over at Hermione. Fortunately, Sharon was not among them. Or unfortunately. Perhaps she was already speaking with Lucius.

'Ron,' Ginny hissed. But he likely did not hear it. His back was turned to them as he stomped off toward the exit of the building.

Harry gave them an apologetic look. 'Lavender left with Seamus to the reception a few minutes ago,' he explained.

Well, at least she wasn't having as many problems as Ron. Even if the Malfoy family thought her a harlot, Draco still loved her. She tried to find comfort in that as she followed Ron.

When the three of them caught up, Ron stood at the Apparation point, tapping his foot. ''Bout time you came. Now can we leave?'

'Ron, are you sure you don't want to calm down before we go?' Hermione asked in a placating tone as she worriedly watched him. His ears were a blinding scarlet, and she half-expected steam to spout out of his ears like a teakettle.

'I am calm!' he snarled.

'Mate,' Harry said, placing a firm hand on Ron's shoulder. 'If you want her back, you need to show her you don't care. They like it when the guy ignores them and plays hard to get.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. Whatever.

'Can we go already?' Ron said, heeding Harry's 'advice' not one whit.

With a loud pop the four of them Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor. Lulu was already waiting for them at the gate. She too was dressed in Pansy's wedding colours. 'Master Draco told Lulu to tell Mistress Hermione that he will be joining you when the wedding pictures are finished.'

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was champing at the bit to be inside. 'Would you mind taking us in, Lulu?'

'Lulu would love to do so,' the house elf said with a small curtsy. Passing through the gates, the merry entourage walked by moving ice sculptures, as well as the other usual ornaments decorating the Malfoy lawn: albino peacocks, nymphs, and fairy lights. The sight still took her breath away.

At the door, Ron left them for the ballroom.

'Wonder where he's off to,' Ginny said flatly. 'Shall we follow him and make sure he doesn't embarrass himself?'

Before she could reply, a gentle voice hallooed her name from down the hall. A few seconds later, a vision in ice blue came into view. Narcissa Malfoy greeted them all, before leaning down to share some air kisses with Hermione.

'Please excuse us,' Harry said. He and Ginny took their leave to chase after their wild red-headed goose.

When she pulled away, Narcissa beamed at Hermione. Eyes as frosty as the material of her dress roved over Hermione. Out of reflex, her shoulders hunched forward and her fingers flew straight to her hair as she lamented her hasty actions in the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Then it occurred to her that she might have something much more serious than her ugly hair to worry about. 'Where's Mr. Malfoy?' she blurted out.

'Lucius? I don't know. I last left him with Sharon Vernus. You are acquainted with her, are you not?'

'NO!'

Narcissa's lower lip protruded slightly. 'Odd. She's Draco's secretary. I would have thought you'd have met each other by now.'

'Oh, _that_ Sharon Vernus. I mean, yes, I know her.'

Narcissa raised her hand towards Hermione's fingers, and she ducked, flustered that her hair looked bad enough for Narcissa to try to fix.

'Dear,' Narcissa chuckled, 'are you alright?'

'Yes, why do you ask?'

'You just look a little warm. Now stay still.' Cool fingers pressed against her forehead, and Hermione sighed in relief. Her hair wasn't as horrible as she thought.

'You're burning up. Are you coming down with something?'

Just embarrassment about some foolish words spoken in the presence of a gold-digging skank. But other than that, 'No.'

'Good. I would hate for you to be sick today, of all days,' Narcissa said, patting her gently on her cheek. Taking her by the arm, Narcissa led her to the ballroom.

'Why's today so special?' Hermione asked, dragging her heels. No doubt Lucius and Sharon were waiting behind the double doors, ready to stone her and call her bad names.

'Because it's Pansy and Lancelot's wedding,' Narcissa said with a sly smile as she pushed open the door. 'What do you think of the reception?'

Hermione looked around, truly seeing the place for the first time. Everything was pink and black. Lights, tablecloths, food and drink, even flowers. And wouldn't you know, none of the flowers looked like the ones Draco had sent her the other day. Too many flowers, indeed. 'It's lovely,' Hermione happily replied, recalling all those flowers waiting for her back in her office.

'I'm glad you think so,' Narcissa said. 'When you marry, you must consider having the wedding and reception here.'

Hermione blushed again, thankful that the rose coloured lights would hide it. 'Oh…'

'Forgive my impertinence, but you and Draco will look lovely amongst the flowers and lake in the back. I can already picture it.' Narcissa gently patted her back. 'You will make such a beautiful bride and daughter.'

'Erm, thank you.'

Hermione reached to take some champagne from a passing house elf. Sipping down the contents of the goblet, she felt herself relax as the bubbles fizzed down her throat. Listening to Narcissa chatter about Hermione's imaginary nuptials with Draco, she began to unwind.

Of course it was that moment Ron chose to deck Seamus Finnegan. Narcissa's eyes widened in horror as Seamus's body flew across the room and slammed into a small table of raspberry and blackberry tarts not three feet from them.

'Oh no,' Narcissa wailed and clutched at Hermione's hand.

'Was that really necessary, man?' Seamus said, his voice muffled by his hands. 'I think you broke my nose.'

'You're lucky it's only your nose I broke,' Ron snarled, walking towards the Irishman who was still laid out on the floor.

'Stop it,' Lavender shrieked, pulling Ron away from Seamus, who was cheekily smiling up at him through layers of pastries, cream, and blood.

Narcissa gripped Hermione's fingers so tightly, they began to ache. Unable to get her wand, unable to leave the distraught Narcissa, Hermione watched her friend hopefully not make too big a fool out of himself in front of hundreds of people. The ballroom filled with silence as all the spectators continued staring at this train wreck. Just over Ron's shoulder she saw Ginny and Harry laughing.

In spite of his bruised and bloodied face, Seamus seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He wiped his nose with his sleeve then spat on the ground, earning a sniff of disapproval from Narcissa.

'Took you long enough,' Seamus said, chuckling.

Ron stopped for a moment, glancing over at Lavender. 'What does he mean?'

'What do you think he means?' Lavender hissed.

Ron's forehead wrinkled as if contemplating the next move in the most important game of chess in his life. 'You were,' he cleared his throat, 'you're trying to make me jealous?' Ron asked hesitantly.

Lavender shrugged her shoulders. 'You brought Hermione here.'

Hermione cringed, then cringed some more as Narcissa frowned beside her.

'But Hermione and I are just friends,' Ron spluttered.

Lavender knelt next to Seamus, helping him off the ground. 'And so are Seamus and I.'

'That's not what it looks like to me!' Ron shot back. But when Lavender began to walk off with Seamus, the anger on Ron's face quickly changed to desperation. Running over to her, he dropped to his knees. If Narcissa weren't gripping her hand so tightly, Hermione would have covered her eyes. It was almost too painful to watch.

'Lavender,' he begged, 'please take me back.'

The blonde's eyes darted about, taking in all the witnesses to the spectacle. 'Ronald Bilius Weasley, get up,' she urged through clenched teeth. 'Everyone's watching.'

'Let them! I want them to know that I love you.'

'You have a funny way of showing it,' Lavender said, laughing uncomfortably. 'Is that why you brought Hermione here as your date?'

Suddenly all eyes on the room were on her. Again. Narcissa shifted beside her. If only Hermione could run away! She took a few baby steps back, trying to pry off Narcissa's death grip, but the woman's persistent fingers would not budge. 'I—' she stammered, trying to come up with some explanation.

'I only brought Hermione because you brought Finnegan here first,' Ron answered back.

'Lavender wouldn't have brought me here if you weren't such an enormous git in the first place,' Seamus informed.

'No one asked for your opinion!' Ron shouted, earning a glare from Lavender.

'Get up,' Lavender demanded.

'Not until you answer me.'

'I refuse to speak about this with you. And certainly not here.' Without waiting for a response, Lavender turned and began to walk away.

'Lavender Brown, will you marry me?' Ron called out. A collective gasp sounded in the room, and Lavender stopped in her tracks. Even Narcissa had been shocked into releasing Hermione's hand.

'What did you just say?' Lavender asked, her voice nearly an octave higher than her usual squeak. Somewhere in the room, another high-pitched squeal sounded. Parvati, most likely.

Ron cleared his throat, speaking even louder, 'I said, Lavender Brown, will you marry me?'

Before Lavender could answer, a banshee's shriek rent the room. Hermione turned her head, expecting to see Parvati rush forward. Instead, a ghost like figure hurled itself at Ron, and he tumbled to the floor with a howl. As the apparition flung insults and blows at Ron, he curled into the foetal position, shielding his face with his arms from the onslaught of his attacker's violence.

Huh? Draco had never said anything about Malfoy Manor being haunted. And from her time at Hogwarts, Hermione knew that ghosts could not actually physically hurt one of the living, and yet, there was Ron, bellowing at the ghost to 'lay off.'

'You complete and utter oaf!' the ghost shrieked. 'How dare you! This is my wedding! My day! And you've ruined it!'

Hermione squinted. The ghost was... Pansy? Rubbing her eyes, Hermione stared again. Sure enough, Pansy Kiely was beating up a still prostrate Ron. She and the wedding party must have just returned from taking the wedding photos. And a good thing too, because Pansy no longer resembled a happy, blushing bride. The white lace and taffeta swirled around her, a manifestation of accidental magic causing her wedding dress to act as an extension of her fury. Pink and black flower petals rained down on the spectators, flying every which way as the bride repeatedly pummelled Ron with her bouquet.

'I hate you!' Pansy screamed as Lavender burst into tears, pleading with the bride to stop hurting Ron. But Pansy was deaf to Lavender's pleas.

Pansy had just lifted up her heavy skirts, ready to kick Ron when Lancelot cautiously approached. 'Now dear,' he cooed, 'put the bouquet down, or you won't be able to toss it later.'

The bride abandoned her attack, throwing herself into the groom's arms. 'This is your fault. I didn't want to invite him!'

'I know, love, and I'm very sorry.'

'Can't you hex him? I don't have my wand on me.'

'Dear, I think you've done him enough damage.'

Pansy sniffled, burying her face in Lancelot's chest.

Seeing Pansy's distraction, Lavender knelt beside Ron, pulling his head into her lap. 'Oh, Won Won. Are you alright?'

Not opening his eyes, Ron moaned, 'No. And I won't be alright until you agree to marry me.'

'Of course I'll marry you,' she cried. And then, forgetting his injuries, Lavender practically tackled him, and they proceeded to celebrate their engagement on the floor.

'How romantic,' Narcissa said snidely. 'Draco tells me that Ronald Weasley was your first boyfriend. Is that true?

Before Hermione could answer, a high-pitched whine interrupted her. Turning in the direction of the sound, she saw Lancelot wrap his arms around a flailing Pansy. "Make them stop!" she ordered.

Lancelot nodded, then prodded the couple on the floor with the point of his shoe. When he finally got Ron's attention, the groom said, 'Congratulations, Weasley. Now take your celebrations outside.'

'Right, sorry about that, mate.' Ron jumped up, then tugged Lavender to her feet and out the door. The couple disappeared with a few giggles and 'Won Wons' from Lavender, a smattering of clapping from their audience, and a few orders from Narcissa to the house elves to clean up the mess.

For her part, Hermione could not move. Had Ron really proposed to Lavender? Ron, the boy who demanded a long leash. The boy who less than two hours before had arrived in her floo drunk, unshaven, and swearing off the idea of marriage. No matter how ridiculous Ron's method, the engagement had, in fact, occurred. And it was beautiful. Not his actual proposal. That was pants and poorly planned. But the first of her childhood friends, one of her best friends, was going to get married. Who'd have believed it? They were all growing up. First Ron, then probably Ginny and Harry, and...Oh, caution and reason be damned. Why not hope that she and Draco would marry too? Tears filled Hermione's eyes, and she carefully wiped them away before they could ruin her makeup.

She glanced around the room to see if others found the moment as momentous as she did. Nope, not a wet eye in the place, unless they were crying from laughing. She even heard whispers from more than one wizard and witch that George paid Ron and Lavender to ruin Pansy's wedding—the ultimate practical joke. Still overcome with her gushy feelings, Hermione wiped her eyes yet again. When she looked up, her gaze met with probably the only pair of eyes that were not amused. A pair of grey eyes she'd been longing to see for days. Before she could so much as raise her hand in a 'hello, I've missed you and love you terribly,' Draco pivoted on his heel and Hermione watched helplessly as he walked away.

What had just happened? Why had he looked at her that way? Had she done something wrong? Dumbfounded, Hermione stumbled after him, but had not gotten one step when someone tackled her from the side.

'Oh, Hermione, wasn't it lovely? I can't stop crying, it was so beautiful!' Parvati Patil shrilled in her ear. Of all the times to be accosted by an annoying class mate. And to think, she had wanted to find someone who shared her gushy feelings.

Hermione turned her head this way and that, trying to locate Draco, but she was so disoriented from Parvati's attack, she couldn't find him. 'Parvati, please let me go,' Hermione begged, desperate to chase after Draco and find out why he hadn't run to her the instant he saw her. And why he'd looked positively murderous. She struggled to break free from her friend's vise-like grip, but it seemed as if Parvati had transformed into a Hindu goddess with an infinite number of arms, each one bent on keeping Hermione away from Draco.

'Oh, Hermione,' Parvati wailed loudly, attracting the attention of the people around them. 'You poor, poor dear. I didn't realize you still liked Ron.'

'What?' Confused, Hermione stopped struggling, instantly regretting it as Parvati smothered her, pushing Hermione's face into Parvati's shoulder. Her friend patted her already messed up hair and cooed loudly, 'There, there, Hermione. It will be alright. There are plenty of ramora in the sea.' What was Parvati on about? Hermione did _not_ like Ron. Why would Parvati even think that? Unless...

Great Merlin, no! No, no, no! Hermione's tears were the tears of a happy person, not those of the broken hearted. Is that what everyone else would think? Is that what Draco thought?

Hermione somehow managed to rescue her face from Parvati's shoulder, but was immediately blinded by a bright flash that erupted around them. Her stomach sank in horror as she realized that not only had she and Parvati attracted the attention of the crowd, which was bad enough in itself, they had attracted the attention of the Daily Prophet's Dirk Cavanaugh.

'So Miss Granger, is it true that you are crushed over your first love's engagement to Lavender Brown? What does Draco have to say about that?'

Adrenaline coursing through her blood, Hermione threw off Pavarti's many arms and fled from the room, ignoring the frenzied shouts of Parvarti and the rude and invasive questions of Cavanaugh.

Pushing past the guests, Hermione burst out into the hall, unsure of which way Draco had gone. Turning right, she ran down the first hallway she came across. As she passed door after door, shouting his name as loudly as she dared, the pool of dread in her stomach grew to epic proportions. And hadn't she already passed that door? Thrice? Hermione stopped in her tracks, leaning against the wall, so she would not collapse on the floor. She should be basking in the glow of Draco, but instead she was hopelessly lost, blisters were forming on the back of both her heels, and the boy she was in love with thought she was in love with someone else.

Biting her lip to keep it from trembling, Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose. _Think, Granger! Think!_

Right. First things first, get rid of torture devices masquerading as fashionable footwear. Toeing off her shoes, she snatched them up in one hand while the other retrieved her wand. A quick healing spell took care of her blisters, and one transformation spell later, her kitten heels were turned into the cutest and most comfortable pair of kneazle slippers she'd ever seen. Knowing she would never navigate the Manor, she decided to go hang out in the one place she could find—Draco's bedroom. Draco could hide where he liked, but he would eventually have to return to his room, and when he did she would be ready for him. And as for the last problem—Draco thinking she still cared for Ron—that could easily be explained away.

Remarkably calmer, Hermione shuffled back down the hall, using the sounds of wedding reception merriment to guide her. She turned a corner and walked past an open door, only to find Draco standing inside the room. His back was to her, hands stretched out on the top of a mahogany desk, head bent down, but the platinum hair was unmistakable. Her mouth parted, ready to call his name, but the sound died somewhere in her throat as another person came into view—Sharon Vernus.

Slithering up to Draco in her impossibly high heels, Sharon rested her hand on his shoulder. 'I'm so very sorry, Draco,' she purred, rubbing her manicured fingers all over his back.

What was Sharon talking about? And why in Merlin's name was she doing touching Draco? And why wasn't he telling her to bugger off in no uncertain terms? To Hermione's dismay, he just stood there, immobile as a Muggle statue.

_Move! _She didn't care if Draco or Sharon obeyed her silent command, so long as there was some space between the two, and post haste!

'These things happen for a reason, Draco. Perhaps...well, perhaps this is for the best. Some things just aren't meant to be.'

Draco didn't answer, and Sharon continued to spout of her seductions. Granted, her words were innocent enough, but her tone was dripping with insinuations.

'I had a wonderful time with you this week,' Sharon said.

So they had been together! Hermione's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palm.

Draco finally looked over at Sharon. 'Did you say something?'

'Just that it would be nice to spend more time with you outside of work. Especially since, now that I'm working for Blaise, I won't get to see you every day.'

'Of course,' Draco said, twisting the dagger deep into Hermione's heart. He turned away from Sharon, staring down at whatever was in front of him on the desk. 'Sharon, would you let my mother know where I am, and that I'm not to be disturbed?'

Sharon's hand moved from his back, and grasped his hand nearest her. 'Draco, you needn't suffer alone. You can tell me what's wrong.'

Sweet Merlin! Hermione reached for a pocket in her dress, itching to whip out her concealed wand and hex Sharon. And boy did she have the perfect jinx for that witch. The 'SNEAK' emblazoned in pimples across Marietta Edgecombe's face as punishment for her fifth year betrayal of Dumbledore's Army would pale in comparison. Hermione ran through a list of choice words, but her hand fell away from her wand somewhere in between 'SLAG' and 'TRAMP.' No matter what she tattooed on Sharon's face, it would never make her happy. It wasn't Sharon's betrayal that upset Hermione.

Why didn't Draco do something? He didn't even have to curse Sharon. If he just pulled away from her, Hermione would have been happy. Ecstatic even. After all, hadn't Draco nearly taken her own head off when she'd pried into his personal life that day behind the Manor, when his mother had thrown that fundraiser for magical creatures? And now, Sharon was doing the same thing and his only response was to smile and politely say, 'Thanks for the offer, Sharon, but I do my best thinking alone.'

Hermione stood there, heart in her throat, trying not to explode, though she could feel her pulse throbbing in her temples. Unable to do anything, she watched as Sharon rose to her tip toes and leaned into Draco, placing something on the desk. Hermione could not make out the object, but whatever it was, it was green. 'Alright, Draco, but if there is anything I can do, and I mean anything, just say the word.'

Draco's hand went immediately to the object, touching whatever Sharon laid on the desk. When he did not answer her, Sharon turned to quit the room. Hermione darted back around the corner, unwilling to have another run in with her nemesis. After the click of Sharon's high heels faded away, she waited another minute, gathering her frayed nerves. Technically nothing happened, but that did nothing to douse the rage and jealousy roiling within her.

Turning the corner, she eyed the now closed door. Grasping the doorknob, Hermione gave it a vicious jerk, but it did not budge. Raising a fist, Hermione banged on the door so hard she knew there would be a bruise.

No answer.

Plan B. Reaching for her wand, she pointed it at the door and uttered a spell meant to blast the door off its hinges. The wood groaned under the force of her magic, but, much to her frustration, it remained intact. Probably some ward the Malfoy family had placed on all the rooms in the Manor.

Undaunted, Hermione raised her wand again, and was just about to utter a stronger spell when the door flung open. 'What the hell—'

Pushing past Draco, she entered the room. 'What is going on between you and Sharon?' she demanded, refusing to lower her wand.

Folding his arms across his chest, Draco raised his chin in challenge. 'What is going on between you and the Weasel?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'And yet you show up to the wedding with a date that isn't me and who happens to look an awful lot like that ugly, ginger-headed ex-boyfriend of yours.'

She knew agreeing to Ron's harebrained idea would lead to trouble. But she wasn't willing to concede yet. 'And what about you? I come here to find the guy who is supposed to be my date being pawed by someone who looks an awful lot like that trashy secretary of yours!'

Draco brushed some imaginary lint off his forearm. 'She prefers the term personal assistant.'

Hermione's right eye twitched. 'That is not funny! I just had to watch her repeatedly throw herself at you and you didn't do a thing to discourage it.'

'Why should I have discouraged it? Especially after I saw you blubber over the Weasel. And you didn't do a damned thing to tell that reporter that you don't like that idiot you insist on being friends with.'

'I was too busy chasing after you,' Hermione remonstrated.

Draco stared stubbornly ahead, avoiding eye contact with her. 'Well, it would seem we're at an impasse.'

There was a time when Hermione would have hexed him and walked away. Or stared him down defiantly at the very least. But the idea of losing him made her heart ache infinitely more than swallowing her pride. Still, she didn't know what to do.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw something green resting on the table. Ah, Sharon's gift. This close, she realized that the green was merely a handkerchief surrounding some mystery object. Hermione snatched it up and held it out to him. Whatever was inside crinkled in her grasp.

'What is this? Why did she give it to you?'

His eyes widened in alarm, but he immediately slipped on the apathetic mask she despised. 'I don't know,' he said with a careless shrug.

He was bluffing; she was sure of it. Well, two could play at that game. 'Really? Then, let's see what we have here.'

'Suit yourself.'

Unwrapping the cloth, she stared in disbelief at what she found. A package of Fizzing Whizzbees? A wave of jealousy swept over Hermione. Only _she_ was supposed to know about Draco's preference for the sweet, and only because Narcissa had told her! Draco never even ate the candy in front of others, because he didn't want to be pestered by people asking him for a bite. And he'd yet to share a piece with her. Hermione lifted her hand and poked the plastic wrapping in disbelief.

'Hermione, no!' Draco lunged toward her. Too late. She doubled over, feeling as if she'd been kicked in the gut. The familiar pull of a Portkey twisted her insides, and she landed in a heap of limbs atop dewy grass. Taking a deep breath, she waited for the world to stop swirling around her. She noticed it was dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Considering it was just past six in the evening in Wiltshire and the sun still shone brightly there, she concluded she wasn't in England anymore.

Brushing her hair from her eyes, she looked up. A great manor home stood before her, windows darkened. The chilly grass made her shiver, and she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Where was she?

* * *

**To be Continued**

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A/N: I realize that after waiting 1.5 years for this, this is a bit anti-climactic and uninteresting. I'm sorry! Next chapter will have Draco in spades, I promise! It will have all the answers to all your questions, bring world peace, and solve the problem of pain. Thanks for sticking with me! Barring me writing an unimportant/insignificant epilogue, this next chapter will truly be the last chapter.

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**I've gotten in the horrible habit of not responding to reviews. I am responding to all the ones for chapter 19. If I haven't gotten to yours yet, I will. I started in reverse chronological order. I did however, respond to all anonymous reviews for 19. They are below. **

**Anonymous Review Replies:**

Idealis07- Thanks for the kind words. I wish I could read fanfiction at work. Or write it. That would be awesome. Yeah, being in love is pretty swell, and falling out of it or having someone fall out of it with you is equally wretched. I so wish Draco existed too. He needs to find me and then taunt me with his unusual brand of flirtation. I'm glad that my story/stories have helped you in some way. Your review certainly spurred me to attempt finishing this beast. And as for the rest of this story, well, here's a part. And the last part should be very soon.

Anonymous 5.26.11 – Here is The End, Part Two. =D. Yeah, neither Draco nor Hermione are exactly angels when they are upset or fearful. But I still love them too. And I hope you like the ending I give them. I guarantee you it will be happy. Hopefully happy enough. And yes, Draco has been very patient. As they say, good things come to those who wait, and he's waited so long.

Clara- Aw, I'm glad it touched some itty bitty part of you and made you tear up. Thanks for the kind words. Here is the first part of Draco's triumphant return, though, really it wasn't all that triumphant. But next chapter there is definitely triumph. It's pretty much all written, just needs some smoothing and beta approval.

Poppy- What happened? Life, I guess. And lack of motivation on my part and an inability to finish this as wonderfully as I felt the story started out. I will definitely give you guys closure though. =D Thanks for the concern.

MaGi- I did write the next chapter. And about 95 percent of the next one! And at least now you know what's happened with Ron. And very soon you'll know what's happened with Draco and Hermione. Promise!

Rahcek- Thanks for the kind words! I hope this update has made you sufficiently happy, though I know it's kind of Draco-lite. But the next chapter is all Hermione and Draco, from beginning to end. Thanks for reviewing!

Rachel- Here you go! And don't die. Then you won't be able to read what happens next. =P

Ilovehp- Here it is! Hope it's not too disappointing!

Anonymous 3.26.11 – I am continuing this. See. =D

Wannabwriter – Yay! I'm glad I was able to accomplish those things. I have never been into Ron for some reason. He always seemed like a dim bulb, and smart girls shouldn't settle for guys that don't shine as brightly as them. At least that's my opinion. But smart girls also shouldn't settle for bad guys, which is why I've had to rehabilitate Draco. As for your criticism, I am finishing it! See, I just put up the second to last chapter. I need closure and the confidence that I can actually finish stories. If you look at my profile, you will see how bad I am at it. =D I'm glad this story has brought you some relief and that you've come out of that dark chapter. Thanks for reviewing.

Myra – Hopefully the ending I'm finally starting to post is congruent with its beginnings. I can't say this last chapter was all that awesome, but I'm forcing myself to have modest hopes for the end. I promise that it's at least a happy ending. Thanks for reviewing!

Hannah - LOL, hopefully you will still be able to function after this last chapter. Though I should be posting the next and final one within the month of June. So at least your non-functioning will be of short duration. I have no idea why it took me so long to get re-inspired. When I first started this, I was like in love with writing it. I would love as I wrote it, but then things started getting hard and I was slogging through things again. It still feels a bit like slogging, but I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And your inner fangirl will get what it wants by the end of chapter 21. As for whether Ginny is happy about the result, well, that remains to be seen.

Easterx – lol, your demands are modest and reasonable. =D Hopefully you are not so angsty anymore. =D

Egg C. - Thank you!

Shelby – Thank you! Here's your update, lol. Only about 1.5 years too late.

Sazza- Oh dear! A new year has come and gone since you posted that review. And as for Draco being jealous, well, you saw what happened in this chapter, and there's more in the next. LOL, both Hermione and Draco have issues. Hopefully you are still reading.

Anonymous 1.7.10 –Oooh, this was a hard review for me to receive. I think part of the reason is because I agree with a bit of it and found it kind of hurtful. I wish you'd left your name so I could have gotten some advice, but one doesn't always get what they want. I don't know what to say about Hermione being totally in her head. I have thought about rewriting the stuff that happens after Capri. In fact, I've written a whole new chapter where it's Draco in Hermione's apartment and not Ginny. Anyway, I guess the most important thing in the past couple chapters has been their relationship, and it was difficult for me to bring other things into it. Maybe I just didn't because it didn't seem right, though I could see how her mentally fixating on Draco makes for boring reading. I don't know what I was thinking when I was composing those chapters, it's been so long since I've written those chapter. The only thing I can think of at the moment in my defense is (if it's just chapter 17 and on) is that while it's three chapters, they take space over one week Hermione time and she just had the biggest row ever with the only guy she's ever loved. Thanks for the review.

Someone-Here is your next chapter. I hope the big gap in time doesn't make what happens too anti-climactic. But at least you know what happens at the wedding. =D Thanks for reviewing.

Juliiaxx- LOL, as your fanfic god I command you to like this past chapter. And I think the ending will be cheesy, lovely, and wonderful. This chapter not so much, but whatever, it needed to happen. And I hope it makes you smile like an idiot for days. I know I'll be smiling when it's over! And yay, I'm glad you didn't find me rambling. Even though I waited 1.5 years to post again, it wasn't because I was trying to torture anyone. I don't like things drawn out. Some things, I think with Draco and Hermione have been a bit convoluted and if I were an outside observer I'd laugh and/or smack them, but I never want to be one of those people who inject drama for nothing but drama's sake. I want things to build to something at least semi-meaningful. LOL, hopefully I finish this and you get to read my other junk. I can't promise it's anything awesome, but I find some of it mildly amusing. And I suck at writing multiple fanfics at a time. But I can't help myself or simply won't. Thanks for the review!

Sanz- Well, you now have Draco's first reaction to Ron and Hermione being at the wedding together. LOL, a little anti-climactic. The Draco-Sharon problem is all resolved in the next chapter. Promise!


	21. The End, Part Three

A/N: I own nothing!

So this is it! Ack! Hope it doesn't disappoint you.

Thank you, likethegaiaphage, for beta-ing. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept me from finishing this sucker.

I still haven't finished answering all my chapter 19 reviews. I am close though. And I'll get to all the chapter 20 ones too. Promise!

Alright, here we go!

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**Unfortunate Event Thirteen:**

**The End, Part Three**

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Seconds later, Draco appeared, landing gracefully on his feet. He spun around, eyes wild until he spotted Hermione. 'That was a very stupid thing to do. You could have been gravely injured,' he said slowly, as if each word required a great deal of restraint.

Like he really cared. Hermione ignored the hand up he offered her, brushing the grass from her dress as she stood to her feet. 'Where are we?' she demanded.

Draco looked over at the house, his brow contorted in confusion. 'I don't know.'

'Do you think I'm stupid? Of course you know! That bag of Fizzing Whizzbees was a Portkey and those have to be registered with the Ministry of Magic. Now tell me where we are.'

Draco folded his arms across his chest and begrudgingly admitted, 'We're in France, at one of my family's properties.'

'France is only an hour ahead. It shouldn't be this dark outside.' Hermione's train of thought was thrown from its tracks by a more pressing matter. 'Why did Sharon have a Portkey to this place?' Her ran wild, conjuring possibility after possibility, each of them increasingly salacious. 'Is this where you've been? Rendezvousing around the globe while I've been nearly sick over you?' Hermione's throat suddenly closed up on her.

'Of course not!' Draco hissed, his cheeks flushed with anger.

'Less than a minute ago you lied to me about knowing where we were. Why should I believe a word you say?' Not waiting for an answer, she turned her back on him and tried to assess the situation. International Apparation was out. That she'd made it all the way home from Capri had been a miracle in itself, and she couldn't bet on being granted another. The last thing she needed in her life was to leave part of her body behind with Draco. After all, she'd recently given him her heart, and look what poor care he'd taken of it.

Though she couldn't Apparate, she could walk away. Having resolved on that, she hadn't even taken one step when a strong hand grabbed her elbow. She spun around, ripping her arm from Draco's grasp.

'Where do you think you're going?' he asked.

'Away from you,' Hermione snarled, raising her right hand to slap him. One of his pale brows arched in derision, as if to say, 'Really?' Curling her hand into a fist, she held it against her leg, digging the knuckles into her thigh.

'What's wrong, Hermione? Tired of hitting me? Or is it just this side of my face?' He turned his other cheek towards her, tapping his index finger against his jaw. Taunting her.

'I should slap you, but right now I can't even stand to look at you, let alone touch you.'

Draco blinked, but the show of vulnerability quickly disappeared. Straightening to his full height, he sneered down at her imperiously. 'Then by all means, run away. Again.'

Hermione lifted her skirts, ready to comply when a sharp crack split the air.

'Master Draco,' an overexcited House Elf squeaked out, then jumped back as if startled when he saw her. 'Mistress Hermione!' he gasped. The House Elf, one she'd never met before, bowed low before her. 'Snotface is pleased to meet you. He is so happy you and Master Draco-'

'Not another word, Snotface,' Draco barked. More calmly, he added, 'And get off the ground. You look ridiculous.'

The poor creature scrambled from the grass, curtseying and bowing as he tugged at his long ears and wrapped them over his eyes. His lower lip quivered under his spindly nose. 'Snotface is sorry, Master Draco,' he warbled, his voice thick with the agony of disappointing his owner. 'Snotface did not mean to make Master Draco angry. Snotface got everything ready, just as Master Draco wanted.'

Hermione looked over sharply at Draco, her stomach sinking. She almost couldn't bring herself to ask what the House Elf was referring to, since it obviously hadn't involved her. As usual, masochism won out. 'What were you preparing?'

Draco uttered a stream of curses she hadn't heard pass his lips since Hogwarts at least. After nearly a year with Draco, she no longer believed him capable of thinking, let alone saying, anything so vile. At least around her.

The House Elf whimpered, but Draco was not finished. 'Merlin, help me, but if you do not leave now I'll really give you something to cry about.' He accompanied his threat with a step toward the trembling beast.

Hermione rushed in front of Draco. 'Stop it!' she commanded.

With a mournful wail loud enough to cover the crack of Disapparation, Snotface vanished.

And then there were two. Hermione and Draco stared one another down, both breathing as if they'd just been chased by a Nundu. His eyes drifted to her mouth, and his body swayed towards hers. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. 'You can't possibly believe I was going to hurt him.'

'You _did_ hurt him. That was a cruel thing to say. He was only trying to please you, though I don't know why. You certainly don't deserve it.'

'I wasn't going to hit him, but if I did, who are you to object? After all, weren't you just about to slap me?'

Hermione raised her chin stubbornly, but could say nothing.

Draco took a deep breath. Through clenched teeth, he gritted out, 'I was angry. Forgive me. Sometimes when people are upset, they do things they don't mean.'

'Obviously,' she said, recovering her former sense of outrage. 'But your anger was disproportionate to whatever he did. He was only following your orders. There was no need to scare him.'

Draco shook his head. 'I'm not going to argue with you about Snotface, especially since the House Elf isn't the real reason you're angry.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Clearly, you are upset about Sharon, and you are using Snotface as an excuse to argue with me.'

'Whatever, Draco. I don't care anymore. When can we leave?'

Draco drew out a chain from his suit jacket and consulted his pocket watch. 'We have another three hours before the return Portkey will activate.'

Three hours! Well, she'd find something to do. 'And where is the Portkey?' she asked.

'I'll show you when I'm good and ready,' Draco huffed.

Hermione gave him ten seconds to stop acting like a child. When his time was up, she announced, 'Alright, you have fun waiting.'

Not having a compass on her person, Hermione set out in the direction of 'anywhere but Draco.'

The sound of footsteps rustling through the grass followed her. Company, and most unwanted at that. Gathering her skirt in her hands, she kicked off her Kneazle slippers and picked up her pace. But Draco stuck as fast as a shadow, practically breathing down her neck.

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'As I already stated, away from you.'

'Why?'

He even had to ask? To her, it was plain as day.

Hermione suddenly stopped, nearly causing Draco to run into her. A warm breeze fluttered around them, toying with the hem of her dress, but she felt cold all over. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring off into the distance, unable to look at him as she told him, 'I don't think this is working.' Her voice barely registered over a whisper, but she knew Draco heard everything.

'I disagree,' he said, but all the fire had deserted him. 'We need to talk.'

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. 'I don't want to talk.'

'Hermione, you just can't...' Any weakness she'd heard in his voice turned to steel, and he coldly informed her, 'You're overreacting. This isn't up for debate.'

'Gods, Draco, why must you always be such a jerk! I am so tired of this. Look at me!' She held out her hands, which were visibly shaking. 'I haven't slept well in days, I've lost my appetite, and I couldn't even concentrate on the simplest tasks, because my head was so full of you! And today, when I finally get to see you again, I find you with Sharon's hands all over you. And you don't even seem to understand why I would be upset. If you want to be with her, then just say so.'

Crossing the distance between them, Draco hauled her into his arms, bringing his mouth to hers. At the last second, Hermione turned away, and his lips grazed her cheek. Did he really think he could just silence her doubts with a kiss? A tear trickled out of her eye. Then another. Soon a whole collection of sorrow had spilled across her cheeks.

'Don't,' she said, her voice cracking.

With a muttered curse, he pulled back. His fingers brushed her cheeks, slipped into her hair. 'Hermione...Love. Don't cry.'

She sniffled, really trying to keep her tears in check, but not for his sake. Unwilling to acknowledge the sadness in his eyes, she turned her face away from his searching gaze. 'I was so happy to see you, and then to find you with her—' Hermione choked back a small sob.

'Hermione, listen to me. I do _not_ like Sharon. I have _never_ liked Sharon. I have never been here with Sharon or anywhere other than the Ministry of Magic, and that was only once for the purpose of securing this Portkey.' She still struggled against him, wanting to run away. His hands moved to her face, gently forcing her to look at him. 'The reason I got this Portkey in the first place was because I had planned something for us.' He brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. 'I'm in love with you and you only.'

She blinked at him, uncertain whether she should believe him.

'You can't honestly think I'd love someone other than you? Virtually all my free time is spent with you. There is no room left in my life for anyone else.'

'But what about this past week? Sharon was there in your Floo. And just now in that study.'

'Hang Sharon! She's a stupid cow whose only significance to me is fetching my coffee and making you jealous,' Draco said, his voice almost at a yell.

Hermione shot him a betrayed look. Draco amended, 'I swear to you I have only spent time with Sharon in a professional capacity. I would have fired her long ago, but my father hired her as a favour to her family, who are old friends of ours. And since Capri, I have not tried to use Sharon to make you feel jealous. That she happened to be in my Floo and in that study was only because I had her working on a project for me.'

'Project? You never told me about any new work project.'

'Doesn't matter anymore. The entire venture has been sabotaged. What is important, however, is that you believe that I love you.' Draco stared at her, eyes imploring. 'I would never do anything with Sharon, and I would never intentionally hurt you. You do believe that, don't you?'

The hard set of her jaw gave way, and she hung her head in shame. 'Yes,' she admitted, sagging against him, no longer able to hold herself up. Burying her face in his shoulder, she cried in a muffled voice, 'I'm such a mess. Why do you even want to be with me?'

'It was a simple misunderstanding,' he stated calmly.

'That's no excuse. I should have trusted you. It's just she's...she's so beautiful and, and I, uh, I know she has her eye on you, and I've been such a spazz. Not always, but ever since I started liking you, it's like I've gone crazy. I don't know how to-'

Draco covered her mouth. She kept trying to speak, to explain her incomprehensible idiocy, but she finally gave up. Her mind's workings were too convoluted, anyhow.

'I don't know what I'm trying to say.' Embarrassed, she tried to wipe away her tears, but he caught her hands in his grip.

'I understand.'

'You do?'

'Yes. Because even though you could never be in love with such a pathetic loser like the Weasel, I wanted to kill him when I saw you getting weepy over his engagement to that girl.'

'Lavender.'

'Whatever.'

'So is that,' Hermione sniffled, 'is that why you left the room and didn't even speak with me?'

'More or less.'

It's as she'd guessed, only seeing Sharon with Malfoy had caused her to question everything. Hermione sniffled again. Wretched nose! 'Can I have one of my handkerchiefs, please?'

Draco reached into his pants pocket to retrieve one. Much to Hermione's confusion, he shoved it back into his pocket and grabbed the hot pink square from his groomsmen suit. 'My apologies,' Draco explained, 'I had to use your handkerchief to clean up something Blaise spilled on me.'

Since she already had the pink kerchief in her possession, she didn't think it necessary to point out that he could have Scourgified the dirty one. Besides, she'd already given him enough trouble for one lifetime.

'That's alright.' Hermione turned the pink square over in her hand; the letters H & G were missing but it served its purpose valiantly. Hermione dabbed her eyes, forcing out a hoarse giggle she didn't really feel. 'I don't know what it is about you, but I only start crying when you're around.' From the frown on his face, Hermione guessed that Draco found that fact as amusing as she did.

'Are you still angry with me?' Hermione asked.

'I was never angry with you.'

'Then are you upset that I've soiled your lovely pink kerchief?' She held out the soggy piece of cloth, which now looked rather forlorn. 'I can get you a new one.'

'That won't be necessary.' He glared angrily at the ground, though it had done nothing to him.

'Draco, what else is wrong? I can tell you're still upset.'

He must have realized how stern he looked, because the next instant his gloomy countenance disappeared, replaced by a smile, albeit a tense one.

'When I left the banquet hall, I didn't mean for you to think I was angry with you. Truly, I'm not upset with you, and I apologize for giving you that impression.'

Hermione shrugged. 'As you said earlier, it was a simple misunderstanding. Though for both our sakes, I think we should make a rule. No more bringing other people along on our dates.'

'I didn't bring Sharon. And please don't make light of this,' he said softly.

Taken aback by the mild rebuke, Hermione flinched. 'Alright. I'm sorry.'

It was as if he hadn't heard her apology. He tucked her hand in the crux of his elbow, then led her to a path that cut through the large front yard of the house.

'You may want to leave those here,' Draco said, gesturing to her Kneazle slippers. Intended for use in Malfoy Manor, the comfy shoes had little business on the pebbled lane. 'Right,' she said, toeing them off and leaving them behind.

Draco kept to the side of the path, so that Hermione could walk in the grass. They had not strolled far when they drew near a rose garden. The lovely fragrance wended its way to her senses, but the romance of the scene was entirely lost on Hermione, who had yet to put to rest a certain niggling doubt that grew larger and larger with each passing second. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer and blurted out, 'Draco, do you really think this is the best idea?'

'What?'

'This,' she said, pointing back and forth between them. 'Us.'

'Just a few days ago you told me you loved me. Do you not anymore?'

'Yes, I mean, no.' Hermione stammered. Taking a deep breath, she clarified, 'That is to say, yes, I do. I do love you.'

'And you still wish to be with me?'

'Yes, it's just...' Hermione took a second to compose her thoughts. Even with that extra time, it didn't make it any easier to say. 'We make such good friends. In fact, I've never felt closer to anyone as I have with you. Not with Harry or Ron or even Ginny. And the very idea of losing your friendship, of losing you, hurts.'

'Well, then, don't lose me, and we'll be fine.' The smile he gave her did little to distract her from the worry in his eyes.

'You know it's not that simple. Ever since Capri all we've done is fight and misunderstand each other. At this point,' Hermione took a deep breath, 'maybe it's best for us not to date. Maybe we should just remain friends.'

Draco pressed his lips together, turning the pink flesh white before he spoke again. 'Is that what you really want?'

Hermione shook her head. It wasn't what she wanted at all. 'But it makes sense.'

She grimaced, expecting him to blow up, but he watched her quietly under the moonlight, his eyes open and considering. 'You're right,' he said after a few moments. 'But this,' he took her hand in his, held it to his chest, 'this makes even more sense.'

'You're just saying that because that's what I want to hear,' she mumbled unhappily.

'And what's wrong with that? Hermione, I have never been half as good as I am as when I'm with you. You have forced me to be a better person, made it easy for me, because loving you is the right thing to do. And I know I've done the same for you. Admit it.'

She couldn't deny it. Hadn't she come to that same inescapable conclusion that soggy night on Harry's front porch? Over the course of their relationship, she'd learned to relax. Have a life outside of work, laugh until she thought she might die. He provided the environment in which she thrived, and the support and encouragement she needed to let down her guard. Of course, when she realized how important he was to her, she had nearly destroyed their friendship with her insecurities. But that was her fault, not his.

'I know you have.'

Draco laced their fingers together, let his forehead rest against hers. 'Gods, Hermione, I'm so in love with you.'

'Me too,' she whispered.

'Then why are you fighting this so much?'

Hermione took a step back, wanting to see him, to reason with her best friend. 'I'm scared, Draco. Half the time I am elated that you love me, and the other half my heart feels so battered because I think you don't want me. What if this doesn't work? If we ended this now, I could learn to resign myself to just friendship with you, but—'

'I won't,' Draco interrupted harshly. 'You speak of ideas that physically hurt you; I can't even countenance the thought of sharing you with someone else. I refuse to, and if you end this, I will do everything in my power to convince you that you are wrong. I will make you change your mind.'

The roughness of his voice, the haughtiness of his pronouncement twisted her insides, but she ignored it and continued with what she had been going to say. 'If _we_ ended this now, I could recover. But if I were to fall even more in love with you, which I know I would, and it were to end, I couldn't handle that.' Her voice wobbled as she concluded, 'It would hurt too much.'

'And what about me? Have you considered how I would recover if you were to end this?'

That had never crossed her mind. It seemed a given that he would easily pick up the pieces and move on. 'No.'

'That's because you're too busy fixating on your insecurities. Did you know I've been in love with you since before Christmas? Ever since you stood up for me in that Bagshot woman's shop. And I liked you long before that. For nearly a year I've been waiting for you to figure out your feelings for me. And now you want me to pretend this never happened? How do you expect me to go back to how things were before? I won't.'

'Draco, that just proves my point. Think how much harder it will be if months from now we break up.'

Draco stared at her as if she'd suggested that Aquavirius Maggots would make ideal house pets. 'Why would I assume that we'll break up?' he asked impatiently.

'We have to be realistic. Not every relationship lasts. Look at Ron and Lavender...before they got engaged,' she finished lamely.

Draco's loud burst of laughter frightened off a bird resting in a nearby tree. 'You're mad if you think I will ever compare our relationship to theirs. In fact, I find it insulting that you can draw any kind of comparison between me and that bumbling idiot.'

'Ron and I used to be best friends too,' Hermione said quietly. 'And I think the only reason we're still such good friends now is because we ended things before it got too serious.'

Draco shook his head, unwilling to accept her logic. 'You didn't love him. And I would never let you go.'

'How can you know that?'

Draco opened his mouth, ready to answer, but closed it just as abruptly. When he spoke again, he said, 'I just do.'

Hermione waited for him to elaborate, patiently watching Draco as he deliberated over his answer. A muscle in his jaw tensed, and Hermione held her breath for his decision, but when he next spoke, it was only to say, 'Let's keep walking.'

Hermione sighed in exasperation, but if he weren't willing to talk about it now, what could she do? 'Fine, but this discussion isn't over.'

'Of course it isn't,' Draco mumbled under his breath.

Placing her hand in his offered arm, they followed the path in silence, making their way towards the back of the estate. As they turned the corner, a large pond came into view, much like the one at Malfoy Manor. Its glassy surface reflected the light of the moon, and fairies rested on the numerous lily pads scattered across the water, causing the plants to glisten like stars. A group of swans and their downy offspring paddled about the water, gracefully weaving through what looked like the heavens come down to earth.

Hermione gasped, walking a few steps ahead of him to have a better look around.

Draco pointed to something on the other side of the pond. 'See that?'

Hermione tore her gaze away from the pond and squinted in the direction he pointed, but all she could see was a bunch of lights in the distance. 'What is it?'

'Dinner. Snotface prepared our meal. We are to eat it in the gazebo.'

'Is that what you were planning?'

'Yes. Dinner.'

Just her opinion, but a ruined dinner date hardly justified his foul mood.

As they followed the path to their meal, more of the intricate decorations came into view. Fairies sat in the lattice work of the gazebo, causing it to shimmer in silver and gold. White flowers were also laced into the gazebo's frame, their unmistakable jasmine scent confirming their identity. Jewel-bright hummingbirds in every hue of the rainbow flitted about, sipping nectar from the star-shaped flowers. If things had not been so tense between her and Draco, Hermione would have laughed with delight. Draco, on the other hand, walked right up the steps, completely ignoring the beautiful atmosphere he'd had a hand in creating.

There were no tables or chairs, just an elaborate carpet that covered the Floor on which Draco deposited himself. With a sigh, he reached for the bottle of wine in the bucket of ice next to him. 'At least one thing hasn't been ruined tonight,' he muttered. Then louder, 'Care for some Ca'del Bosco?'

'Draco, what was that failed venture? You keep referring to it, and I know it's not just dinner. Otherwise you wouldn't be so upset.'

He handed her a glass of wine, then drank straight from the bottle in an unusual show of bad manners. When he'd finished, he said, 'I'm not going to discuss it, so let it go. Just enjoy the meal.' Then he took another swig from the bottle.

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Draco's mood deteriorated into a permanent state of sullenness, while Hermione worried over what was to become of them. She nibbled on her food, too nervous to enjoy the lovely feast Snotface had prepared. After she ate but did not taste her dessert, she decided she'd had enough and escaped the confining space to go to the pond. A stone bench resided near the edge of the water, and she perched herself on the cold slab to watch the swans glide about and feel sorry for herself.

The grass scratched against her bottoms of her feet as she dug her toes into the wet ground, soaking the hem of her gown. What a difference half a day made. She'd so carefully prepared herself, paying extra attention to her dress and hair, wanting to look beautiful for Draco. The hair she'd so meticulously charmed was somehow both bumpy and flat, and her makeup was either smeared or completely cried away. And the new dress she'd purchased, the one that looked so pretty on her she couldn't pass her mirror without admiring her reflection, was covered with wrinkles and water-spots. But that was nothing to the damage done to her insides. Everything was supposed to be perfect. She'd fallen in love with her best friend, her ideal match in every respect, and yet everything had gone wrong. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin there and trying not to cry again.

'May I join you?'

Hermione nodded her head.

He sank gracefully down beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, though far enough away that he didn't touch her. He sat perfectly still, his elbows resting on his kneecaps as he stared out over the pond. Under the light of the moon, his pale skin shone like alabaster. Only the bobbing of his Adam's apple along the column of his throat proved he was human and not a statue.

'I had intended to start our relationship in a very different way. I think if I had, you wouldn't be so worried,' Draco said.

'What do you mean?' she asked, her voice as raw as her nerves.

'Well, first off, nothing would have happened in Capri. We were just supposed to go there for business. But then you kissed that wretched scar on my chest. You were standing there in the moonlight absolutely drenched and gorgeous, like the first night I saw you at Andromeda's house. I couldn't stop myself from kissing you. I'd been waiting so long.'

'And then I slapped you,' Hermione said, horrified. 'I am so sorry, Draco. I never meant to hurt you.'

'I deserved it,' Draco said, his brow wrinkled with frustration. 'It never would have happened if I'd said "I love you" first, like I should have, like I wanted to. Then you wouldn't have been fretful about my answer, because you would have already known how I felt. When you said those words, I wanted you to be able to enjoy it, not crippled with anxiety about whether or not I'd reciprocate your feelings.'

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap, wanting so much to reach out to him. But she forced herself to hold back. 'I can't believe you thought of that,' she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Draco shrugged his shoulders, as if the fact that he seemed to know her and her needs wasn't important. 'Of course I had to bullocks things up. I knew that kissing you like that would frighten you, but I did it anyway, and then I was stupid enough to be offended when you acted exactly as I predicted you would.'

'Don't beat yourself up. That's my job.' Hermione laughed miserably. It was so much worse now, knowing that she'd slapped him when the whole time he'd been so cautious of her and her feelings. Draco, who had never struck her as the most patient of people, had been walking on eggshells the whole time, accommodating her skittishness. His steadfast ardour made her vacillations over whether or not she even liked him seem even more heinous.

He gave her a lop-sided grin. 'Like I said, I deserved it. And that night wasn't wholly awful. You did, after all, kiss me back. And you taught me that Muggle healing ritual.' He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye and rubbed his chest. 'I could use it right now.'

Hermione's heart beat faster, and unknowingly she inched closer to him.

'From the moment I saw you at Andromeda's, I was attracted to you. I knew you didn't feel the same way, or if you did, that the idea would disgust you so much that you'd dismiss it before really considering how good we'd be together. So I befriended you and then sent you mixed signals. I didn't want you to treat me like Potter or...any of your other male friends, but I knew if I went too far you would retreat. So I flirted with you, but then pretended what I was doing was something utterly natural in a male-female friendship, when it wasn't. I also did things to try to make you jealous, like talking to those girls at the mall. Or letting you think I was interested in Sharon.'

'So that whole time, you liked me?' she asked, dubiously.

'The whole time. Is it really that hard to believe?'

'What do you think?' Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed him on the shoulder, but he pulled her towards him, so that their faces were only inches apart.

His brow furrowed, but his eyes were full of longing. He looked so young and vulnerable, like the man of 21 that he actually was instead of the Draco of her mind, who had the self-assurance of a forty-year old.

'I think...Hermione, I think you're wonderful, and I think you should reconsider.'

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

'You aren't the only one who's scared. It's just that my fears are different than yours.'

'What do you have to be afraid of?'

'I'm in love with the perfect girl, which if that were not intimidating enough, I spent years tormenting and degrading her. And I continue to do things that hurt her.'

'Nobody's perfect. Certainly not me.'

'You come pretty close.'

'B-but, but you always seem so...put together,' Hermione stammered. 'Where as I...' She gestured down the length of her body, starting from the top of her ruined hairdo, down her wrinkled and spotted dress, to her bare feet. All products of her ridiculousness. 'I have the relationship acumen of a Mountain Troll. I don't know how to stop over-thinking things.'

'Actually, I'm quite certain no one would ever accuse a Mountain Troll of over-thinking.'

Hermione growled in exasperation. 'You know what I mean! We haven't even started dating, and already I'm worrying about us breaking up.'

'That won't happen.'

Hermione sighed, hating that as always, she had to be the annoying nag. 'You keep saying that, but how can you be sure? Are you willing to lose everything we've gained for a relationship that might not work out?'

'Hermione, you're my best friend too, probably the only real friend I've ever had. Your friendship is worth more to me than anything I possess. I would never risk it, or ask you to risk it, unless I was certain everything would work out in the end. Instead of worrying about how badly things could end, try to imagine how happy we'll be together.'

'We're already happy,' she pointed out half-heartedly, not even sure she believed her own arguments any more. 'Or at least we were.'

'And we have the opportunity to be even more so.'

He took her hand, tracing the lines of her palm. 'Picture it. You could teach me to drive, love half-Kneazles, and treat my employees with respect, including the ones that are so hideous even _you_ can't tell if they are male or female. And in return I could teach you to fly a broom, appreciate Quidditch, and ride down a slide without having a panic attack.'

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to focus on her answer and not on the way her skin tingled wherever Draco touched it. 'We don't need to be dating to do those things.'

Draco lifted her hand to his mouth, ghosting his lips over the veins in her wrist. 'But what if I want to hold your hand? Run my fingers through your hair? Or kiss you on your mouth? Can friends do that?'

'Draco...' Hermione pleaded, feeling what little resistance she possessed start to crumble.

'And don't you get tired of having to say good-bye? If we were together, you'd never have to leave, since we'd already be home. We could read or watch movies. Have family dinners with my parents and yours. And eventually with our own children who'd look just like Teddy, but more adorable because they're ours.'

Hermione heart ached so painfully for everything he talked about she could hardly breathe. And then she realized, either way she would hurt. If their relationship ended, as she feared, she'd be shattered. But if she never tried with him, how would the terrible emptiness that was threatening to consume her ever go away? Could she live, knowing that she had happiness in her grasp but had settled for a half-life? A diminished life, for surely that is what a life without Draco would be. Could she watch as Draco moved on from her? See him share their perfect life with someone else? The thought leeched all the warmth from Hermione, as if she'd been caught in a Dementor's grip.

'Yes,' she whispered, tightening her hand around his as if he might disappear.

Draco inhaled sharply. His pupils dilated, and his breathing sped, stirring the hairs around her face. 'Yes what?'

'Yes, I want that. I want all of it, but mostly I want you.' Hermione bit her lower lip, unable to look him in the eye. 'But I don't deserve you. Not after all of this.'

'You're the only person who believes that. After all, who would ever think that Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and champion of the downtrodden, could condescend to love the spoiled Death Eater who demeaned her for years and did nothing as his aunt tortured her? Hermione, do you realize what an idiot I was? I thought I knew everything, simply because I could regurgitate all the ignorance and vitriol I heard spoken around me.' Draco ran an agitated hand through his hair. 'So much time wasted. Instead of insulting you, I should have been kissing your feet.'

Draco slid from the bench, dropping to his knee. The action so surprised Hermione, she nearly fell off the bench herself. Draco grovelling? She couldn't picture it. Besides, if anyone should be kissing anyone's feet, it should have been her kissing his.

Putting her arms under his, she tried to pull him up. 'Please, Draco,' she urged. 'It's in the past. I already told you I forgave you. And anyway my feet are incredibly dirty from walking around barefoot.'

Draco laughed, but refused to stand from the ground. 'I love how you can be brilliant and oblivious in equal measures.'

'Well, I don't love how you can be stubborn and infuriating in equal measures. It's actually quite annoying,' she said, not annoyed in the slightest.

Draco laughed again. 'You are going to regret insulting me.'

'No, I won't.'

'Alright,' he said, raising his eyebrows in challenge. Sticking his hand in his breast pocket, he pulled out a small, black box and opened it. Nestled inside was a very shiny thing that looked an awful lot like an engagement ring.

'Oh, Merlin...Oh, Merlin!' Hermione covered her mouth before she said it a third time.

'Hermione Jean Granger, you are superior to me in every way, and I have no right to even ask this of you, but since I am a stubborn and infuriating git as well as a selfish and possessive one, I want to marry you, monopolise all your affections, and keep you forever. May I?'

Hermione's ability to communicate had shut down, temporarily blinkered by the overwhelming happiness pulsing through her entire being.

'This is where you answer "yes,"' Draco prompted.

'Are you serious?'

Draco shook his head, rubbing his temple. 'That or this is the most elaborate practical joke I've ever pulled.'

Hermione pressed her hands to her stomach, stilling their trembling. 'If I say yes, you don't get to change your mind,' she said breathlessly.

'That's the general idea. Otherwise they'd call them marriage suggestions instead of marriage vows.'

'I'm not kidding, Draco!'

'You silly girl. After going through so much trouble to get you, do you really think I'd change my mind?'

Hermione extended her shaking left hand and Draco slipped the platinum band on her finger. Rotating her hand, she examined the ring from all angles, delighting in the way it sparkled like trapped moonlight against her skin. What she loved most, though, was the way Draco looked at her. His mouth curved in a tender smile and his eyes seemed impossibly bright, and all because she'd said, 'Yes.' If this is how he felt every time he made her feel happy, no wonder he kept doing it. It was as if she'd scored 'O's on all her N.E.W.T.s, liberated House Elves everywhere, and discovered an original hand-written manuscript of Professor Garino's _Hogwarts, A History_.

Draco settled on the bench beside her. Dragging her to his side, he hid his face in her hair. 'Can you believe it?' Hermione whispered in awe. 'We're getting married.'

His nose moved against her cheek as he nodded. Hermione turned her face to meet his mouth, slowly brushing her lips against his. First the lower, then the upper, and of course she could not neglect the enticing corners, which would quirk up whenever he found himself particularly amusing or someone else exceedingly stupid. She kissed him all the ways she'd wanted to since they'd stood next to each other by the pond at Malfoy Manor, dragging her lips unhurriedly over her fiancé's lovely mouth. She had time, didn't she? Now that he belonged to her and always would, there was no rush, and she set about to learn as much about him as possible.

It seemed Draco was of the same mind. Pulling her into his lap, he looked up at her, his head resting against the back of the bench as her hair fell around them in a slightly rumpled curtain. He swept it back, tucking it behind her ears. 'No more hiding.'

'OK,' Hermione sighed, trying to keep her eyes open as his hands trailed down her shoulders, then sides, before stopping at her knees. His fingers ran over the material of her dress, up then down over the sides of her legs. When he did it again, the silk caught on his fingertips, and Hermione shivered as she felt Draco's warm palms caress her bare skin. 'Nice dress,' he informed gruffly, and Hermione clutched at his shoulders as he kissed hers.

Everywhere his hands and mouth touched was like fire, and even though she was almost unpleasantly warm, she needed to be closer to him. Just as important, if not more, was the need to make him feel as good as he made her feel. Not really knowing what to do, she acted on instinct, dropping tiny kisses over his face and neck. 'I love you,' she said without thinking, uttering the thought foremost in her mind. Draco sighed against her throat, and she felt her arms and legs cover with goosebumps as he lowered them to the bench.

She repeated the words she couldn't say enough. Each time she said it, his fingers dug into her skin, pulling her closer to him until she could not tell where she began and he ended. The puzzle of limbs was too complicated to solve with her mind so full of Draco. His hands gripping hers as their hearts pounded against the other's. The smell of his cologne as she rubbed her face against his neck. The rushed breathing and small sounds he made as she tasted the wine on his lips.

A loud honk startled her, and she broke away, blinking down at him in confusion. 'That wasn't me,' Draco panted. He pointed toward the lake, and after a few hazy seconds she managed to follow the line of his finger. A few sparkling lights floated in the air amidst a group of swans, landing and taking off on their bills. But if the fairies wanted to pester the swans, so be it. Tonight it was not her problem.

Hermione dropped her head against his chest, sucking lightly on his collar bone. With a groan, Draco smoothed down her dress, which had ridden up most immodestly and moved his wayward hands to a more appropriate place at her shoulders. He began to sit up, slowly untangling their limbs.

'What's wrong?' Hermione asked, as he wrapped his arms firmly about her person.

'Absolutely nothing. But you have a nasty habit of disappearing on me. When I say what I'm going to say next, I don't want you to go silly and Disapparate without me.'

'It happened one time. That is not a habit, nasty or otherwise. And I think you should know, I have no plans of ever leaving you again.'

'I'm very glad to hear that, but we should stop, or I won't be able to stop. Do you understand?'

Hermione toyed with the open edges of his shirt, running her fingers over each of the buttons before slipping her fingers inside. The ridges of his stomach muscles jumped in a terribly fascinating manner as she traced them. 'No.'

Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bench. 'We can't,' he whimpered.

'Why not?'

'Hermione, look around. We're completely out in the open. On a stone bench.'

'So.'

'You only say that because you're on top. This benc is about as welcoming as Crookshanks.'

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to switch places or suggest moving into the house, but before she could voice her offer, he covered her lips with his hand. 'I'm sure you have any number of solutions, but I want to do this right. For once.'

The promise of greater things to come made her shiver again. He'd already been planning their first time together too? Not that she put any store by house affiliations, but there were certain advantages to the schemes of Slytherins. However, there was something to be said about the spontaneity of her own house.

'We could get married tonight,' she said, touching her lips to the hollow of his throat.

For a second, she thought he truly considered it, but then he shook his head vehemently.

'No. My parents would kill us. Not to mention your parents. The last thing I need is to upset your father anymore than I already have.'

'What happened with my dad?'

'Let's just say he didn't appreciate waiting for me to show up looking like I had thoroughly snogged his daughter. Thankfully, your mother already likes me, but for a while there, it was touch and go.'

'You met with my parents? When?'

'That night when Sharon poked her head through the Floo, right after you told me you loved me. She was reminding me of my dinner with your parents.'

'Why were you having dinner with them?'

'Initially to ask for permission to court you, but after what you did, to ask for your hand.'

Hermione's eyes widened, and then she burst into laughing. 'What is with your family and having permission to court?'

'You wouldn't know this, having grown up Muggle, but it is standard practice for a gentleman to seek the approval of the lady's parents. Certainly for her hand in marriage.'

'I know that much. But is it standard practice for the girl to receive permission from the boy's father to be courted?

Draco chuckled. 'No, that was just my dad being a bastard.'

'Ron never asked my parents to date me,' Hermione pointed out.

'As I said, it's standard practice for a _gentleman.'_

'Why do you always pick on Ron anyway? I haven't even liked him in years.'

Draco threw his arms into the air. 'After tonight, you need even ask? He is the reason I stormed away angry and ran into Sharon, which threw you into a tizzy, and almost made you think that we shouldn't be together. I should kill him for that alone. And he ruined my proposal.'

'But you've been picking on him long before tonight,' Hermione said, rubbing him behind the ears like she did to Crookshanks when he was particularly cranky. 'You're jealous, aren't you?'

'Of course not!' Draco said with disgust.

'It's completely understandable. After all, he was my first friend. First boyfriend. And he even had the bright idea of getting engaged before you. He's beaten you to everything, and he's not even a fraction as smart as you.'

Draco tightened his hands around her waist, but didn't say anything.

'You did beat him to one thing, though,' Hermione pointed out generously. 'You broke Seamus's nose first.'

Draco rolled his eyes.

'Besides,' Hermione delicately cleared her throat, 'there are other firsts that will be yours.'

Draco raised his brows innocently, a perfect contrast to the sensuous curve of his lips. 'Such as?'

Hermione blushed. 'You know. And stop looking at me like that. You're a virgin too, remember? Even if you act like some self-assured, Slytherin sex god.'

'What did you call me?' Draco nearly choked. 'A Slytherin sex god?'

A horrible thought occurred to her. His admission in the elevator had come months before he fell in love with her. What if... 'You are, um, still a...you know, right?'

'Yes, but if we keep talking about this, neither of us will be by the end of the night.'

'As I recall, you were the one who had a problem with that.'

'And I stand by those objections.'

'For how long?'

'Well, that depends. Who do you want to screw over more? Because if we wait until next year, Zabini loses the bet. If we wait until next May, your Ginny will lose as well.'

'You knew about the bet?'

'Zabini told me.'

Hermione ran her finger down his breast bone tracing over his scar. 'Zabini offered me a percentage of his winnings.'

Draco dragged in his breath with a hiss, concentrating all his attention on some star in the sky. 'I may have told him that if he agreed to hire Sharon, I would make sure he won,' he said, breathlessly. 'I think he plans on sending her to India to oversee a recent purchase of his mother's. Some aquatic hatchery for Shrake or Grindylows or something ugly and slimy?'

'The Ramora?' Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. 'Don't care.' Funny, neither did she.

'Ginny never stood a chance.' Oh well. She hadn't exactly been worried about Hermione when she stole that last bathroom stall and left her to confront Sharon by herself.

'She'll live,' Draco said unremorsefully. 'Though _I_ might die if you keep touching me like that.'

'Die? Surely not?' Hermione continued to run her fingers over his stomach, then traced the elaborate buckle of his belt. 'See, you're still here.'

Draco bolted upright, then jumped to his feet for good measure, pulling her up with him. 'Is a month enough time to prepare?' he said, sounding awfully like he was speaking in Mermish. She almost couldn't decipher the high-pitched screeches.

Hermione waved away his concern. 'I've been thinking about this day since I was a little girl. I already have my grandmother's dress. Your mom offered to let us use the Manor, though I think I'd rather marry here. And our parents knew this was coming, right, so there won't be any surprises,' Hermione surmised.

'Yes, though I may have given your father the impression that we wouldn't marry for at least five years.'

'Why would you do that?'

'It was more his suggestion than mine. I just went along so he'd say yes.'

'I don't think we even need a month. We could do this in two weeks.'

'Two weeks,' Draco said resolutely, fists clenched at his sides. 'I was willing to wait until May. I can wait that long.'

Hermione took a second to look at something other than Draco. Funny, the moon hadn't moved the whole time they'd been here. 'Speaking of waiting, what time is it? Can we return to England yet?'

'We can return at any time, so it doesn't matter.'

'But you said—'

'I may have lied about the Portkey to keep you here.'

Hermione shoved Draco. 'You're terrible.'

'Would you rather I had let you go?'

'No.'

'That's what I thought,' Draco said, distractedly checking his pockets for the return Portkey.

'And that's another thing, if we're in France, how come it's already so dark?'

'As for the darkness, I cast a spell on the estate. Otherwise you wouldn't have been able to see the fairy lights. Aha! Here it is.' He pulled out another bag of candy and waved it at her triumphantly.

'Fizzing Whizzbees? Again?'

'You are always harping on me to share them with you. Now, since you are my fiancée, I believe that entitles you to everything I have, including my Fizzing Whizzbees.'

She reached for the bag, but he quickly held them back. 'Uh, uh, uh. This is a momentous occasion. You are the first person I've ever shared my Fizzing Whizzbees with, so instruction is required. First you must remember, Hermione, that Fizzing Whizzbees are a confectionary delicacy and must be appreciated with the proper–oof!' Draco doubled over from the elbow she prodded into his rib, relinquishing the bag of candy into her waiting clutches.

The instant she touched one of the candies inside, she felt her insides twist and seconds later, she lurched into Draco's bedroom, with him following right behind her. Laughing, they tumbled into his bed, and the mattress groaned under their combined weight.

'You have got to stop doing that. Now come here, you merciless tease!' With a growl, Draco pounced on her and started nibbling on her neck, causing her to shriek and flail. But the tiny bites quickly changed into searing kisses, and pretty soon Hermione was staring up at his ceiling, sighing happily. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a dream.'

'How do you know it isn't? Aren't you in the habit of dreaming of me, Hermione?'

'That depends. Do you dream of me?'

Draco leaned down, his lips hovering along her jaw line. 'Every night. Scandalous dreams that would make you blush to the roots of your unruly hair and **have** your father lock you away in a tower,' he rasped, his voice rife with insinuation and mischief.

Thankfully the dark of the room disguised the heat suffusing her face. 'Is that so?'

'Yes, although in my dreams, you go by the name Hermione _Grangeen_, break my secretary's quills, and pay me surprise visits in the nude in an invisibility cloak.'

He lifted his head from her neck, then chuckled outright at the look of horror on her face as she shoved him away.

'She told you!' Hermione didn't have to specify the 'she.' The rancour in her voice gave it away.

'Actually, she told my father who then told me.'

'Your father knows!' Hermione mourned, covering her face with her hands. 'I didn't even mean it.'

'Neither did I. The idea of you naked in anything of Potter's makes me ill.'

'The idea of you speaking with Sharon Vernus makes me ill,' Hermione snapped back.

'We shall soon have our remedies. On Monday, Sharon will be Blaise's problem, and I will have received the invisibility cloak I ordered from Borgin and Burkes.'

Hermione laughed. 'Be serious for once.'

'I am serious. I have orchestrated the complete ruination of Weasley's designs to have my blond, Slytherin babies, which is only fair, since he ruined my proposal.'

'And how do you plan to do that?'

The heat of his mouth pressed against her neck again, making her skin spark. 'I think between the two of us brilliant individuals, we'll come up with something. But for starters, it will involve you and the invisibility cloak,' he murmured in a low voice. 'Followed by lots and lots of practice.'

'Perhaps,' Hermione shrugged noncommittally, though her stomach was still flip-flopping its way down to her feet. 'But only if you're good.'

'Oh, I'll be very good. I promise.'

A throat cleared, and it wasn't Draco's or her own. Hermione stopped moving, though from the way Draco was still pawing her, he must not have heard the noise.

Turning her head, she saw the last two people she expected to see standing in Draco's doorway.

'Mum? Dad! What are you going here?' Hermione squealed, trying to sit up and straighten her dress. Draco's hands did not interfere with the process. At the mention of her father, they'd fallen away from her as if her skin had suddenly sprouted Bubotuber boils. The guilty pair quickly scrambled off the bed.

'Narcissa invited us over,' Allison replied, beaming at Hermione and Draco, then at Hermione's ring. 'It would seem some congratulations are in order. I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for Hermione and you to start dating. And then to suddenly have you engaged! I'm so happy!'

Richard merely stood there, his left eye twitching.

'I apologize for the short notice,' Narcissa's bell-like voice floated across the room, 'but I had so wanted to meet your parents, and as we were expecting you and Draco to return soon, we asked them to come celebrate your engagement along with a few of your closest friends. And that nice reporter from the _Prophet._'

Hermione's eyes darted towards the front door, fearful that Pansy would rush in to destroy them all.

Seeing her concern, Narcissa said, 'The reception ended a half hour ago. Everyone who was invited to our get-together is waiting downstairs to congratulate you.'

Stepping out from behind her, Draco strode toward her parents, hand extended. 'Mr. and Mrs. Granger, thank you for coming.' Richard's eyes bugged out as he advanced. From behind her husband, Allison discretely pointed toward Draco's chest. With a curse, he realized his shirt was still unbuttoned. 'So sorry,' he said, turning around to try and button up his shirt. 'Hermione and I, er, I mean—'

'Yes, I saw,' Richard grumbled. 'More than I ever needed to.'

'Easily remedied,' a droll voice said from across the room just before a jet of pink light zipped across the room, and pulled the sides of Draco's shirt together. Rather than slipping the buttons into their respective holes, though, a pink ribbon appeared, lacing the shirt from the bottom to his chest, where it ended in a loopy bow.

'Thank you, father,' Draco said flatly.

'Don't mention it. Now come along. We mustn't keep everyone waiting.'

With a flounce of black robes and white blond hair, Lucius left the room, Narcissa on his heels. After a forceful prompting from Allison, Richard left the room, throwing an accusing glance over his shoulder at Draco.

'Well, that was interesting,' Hermione said, fluffing the bow on his shirt. 'Now don't you wish you'd listened to me? We could already be married and doing more exciting things than chatting with our friends.'

'You've gotten me in enough trouble. I won't be able to look your father in the face, which will make the wedding a bit awkward.'

'I'm sure my father will come around. Eventually.' Hermione walked over to his closet and got out another shirt. 'Here, you may want to change.'

'If I know my father, I won't be able to undo this bow for at least an hour,' Draco groused. 'And if I know you father, he will storm the stairs if don't show up in the next minute.'

Hermione didn't think it worthwhile to mention that her mother wouldn't allow her father to do such a thing. Besides, it was probably best she kept quiet. If Draco knew, they'd never make it down, and she was very curious to see what a _bona fide_ wedding night with Draco actually entailed.

Draco stood before her, crowding her body with his large one and distracting her from her imaginings. She grinned up at him as he played with her hair. 'You realize we will be despised for making everyone feel like crap because they will never be as happy as us.'

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. 'While that is unfortunate, it's not my fault that their relationships are, at best, only poor imitations of ours.'

Draco chuckled, and held out his hand. 'So, future Mrs. Malfoy, are you ready?'

She placed her hand in his without any hesitation.

'Yes.'

'Then lead the way.'

* * *

**The End!**

Unless I write a mini-epilogue.


End file.
